Let The Ricks Fall Where They May
by Kat Aclysm
Summary: Rick never expected himself to be stuck caring for a Morty; one day he was minding his own business and then everything he ever knew would change as if the multiverse itself was determined to displace him. However, being stubborn and resilient is the only thing he knows how to do. (Younger Rick, Baby Morty, A/U elements)
1. BabyRicker

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy. Created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. Closing Time by Semisonic (C) 1999 Geffen Records. Cover art by author.

 **NOTE:** This is the beginning of something crazy. Chapter has been proofread (and now beta'ed) for readability and the grammar has been tidied. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - BabyRicker**

 **November 16th, 9:47 AM, 2001  
** **Suburbia  
** **Earth, Dimension Unknown**

* * *

It was a cold morning in the middle of November. The sky was overcast and it had snowed overnight; it looked like winter was going to come early this year. He'd only gotten the call about an hour ago, but when Rick Sanchez was needed, he came. He was on the front doorstep of the house as soon as he could make it, more than happy to help his daughter whenever she was in a bind.

Before he even got the chance to knock on the door, Beth had already opened it; she had seen him coming through the glass panels in the front door. The older man's ears were immediately assaulted by the sound of a crying child, yet he ignored it and offered his daughter a wide grin. His first observation was that the woman was already at her wit's end; her hair was in disarray and her expression looked like she was having a hard time coping.

"Hi, sweetie," Rick attempted his most saccharine sweet voice as he wiped his boots on the doormat. "Well I'm here now, thanks for opening the door for me. W-what did you need?" He stepped through the front door, closing it behind him.

"Hi, Dad." Beth seemed very happy to see him. "Thanks for showing up so quickly. You're a lifesaver..." She moved in to give him a quick hug.

At that moment, Summer ran up the hallway and bumped into her mother's leg, keen to see who was at the door. She stared up at her grandpa with tear-stained eyes, not saying anything. She had obviously been upset about only a moment ago, though she was calm now.

"I came as soon as I could," Rick began to unbutton his snow jacket. "Fortunately for you, I wasn't doing anything particularly important... n-not really, anyway." He glanced down at Summer, offering his best grin; one that was actually genuine. "Well, hello to you, too. Hey, Summer, you're getting tall. How old are you again?"

Summer simply stared back at her grandfather as she hugged her mother's leg, completely silent, unwilling to answer his question in her shyness.

"She's four in a couple of months." Beth answered for her. "We can't chat, I'm afraid. I have to take her to daycare and I'm running late as it is... Jerry's at a job interview so he couldn't do it," the blonde haired woman made an exasperated sigh. "I'm really sorry for the short notice, Dad, bu-"

"That's OK." Rick was quick to cut her off and raised his hand as if to dismiss it. "Just give me the details."

Beth suddenly twisted her brow, becoming upset. "Work called me, I have to go in right away, we need to do surgery on some horses. Some disgruntled punter got into one of the stables at the track last night and shot a bunch of them. Asshole was pissed off that his horse didn't win."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "Jesus, Beth. That's terrible." He tried to sound as sympathetic as he could, but in reality he couldn't have cared less. Things died all the time and he didn't see any sense in worrying about it. Still, he wasn't about to put down his own daughter's beliefs, especially not in front of her, straight to her face.

"Yeah..." Beth glanced off to the side, needing a moment to contain herself. "Anyway, Dad, I need you to take care of Morty for the day. He's still asleep, so leave him down until he starts crying. He's teething again so he might be a bit grumpy." She reached down to pick Summer up. "I have to get going. There's coffee brewing and food in the cupboards. Eat whatever you want, I'll replace it when I have the chance to go shopping again." She briskly moved off down the corridor again, carrying Summer with her. "Come on baby, we have to get out of here!"

Rick let them go. He dusted off his snow jacket and hung it up on the clothing rack near the door. He stood in the hallway for a little while, simply staying out of the way and quietly taking in the chaos within the household. Summer had started her screaming protest again and before long, Beth was talking back to her in stern authoritative tones.

He moved into the lounge room and sat down on the couch, picking up the remote so he could flip through TV channels. He kept the sound off, though; the cacophony of his daughter and granddaughter was way more entertaining than anything that could have been on TV. He couldn't help but smirk about it as he heard the yelling; two very dominating personalities were arguing back and forth at each other with the same amount of fervor as he would have done himself. Rick couldn't help but wonder if those strong-willed personality genes being expressed were from him.

" _Probably."_ He thought to himself with a smirk, and couldn't help but feel proud. Strong-willed personalities meant strong successful people who wouldn't become stomped on or screwed over. He had stashed a hip flask in his shirt pocket and surreptitiously took a sip from it while Beth was distracted; he didn't really want a lecture about drinking so early in the day.

Beth was soon at the front door with a bag in one arm and Summer in the other. "Thanks again, Dad. I'll be home later this afternoon. Jerry will pick Summer up from daycare. Once he gets home, you can take off if you want."

"Wh-whatever he wants. Don't worry about it, sweetie." Rick called out to her from the couch. "Have a good day at wor-UUURRRRRPPk!" He heard the door-jam click shut and finally turned the TV volume up now that the house was quiet, flicking channels once again.

A boring soap opera. Click. A morning variety show. Click. A kid's cartoon about flying superheroes in bright spandex outfits. Click. An infomercial about a hybrid coffee maker and blender; he had always hated those stupid things. Click. He finally settled on a news briefing channel and watched, though he was already bored of it. When he heard the miserable wailing sounds coming from Morty's bedroom halfway through a commercial, he was only too happy to get up.

He moved into the baby's room and peered over the side of the crib to greet his grandson, though he immediately regretted his decision as two of his senses were assaulted; the sound of the baby's crying was bad enough, however, the smell was even worse.

"Hey there, little buddy. What's all that noise for?" Rick picked up the screaming youngster and narrowed his eyes at him; he really did smell appalling. "So... s-so that's how it's going to be, huh?" He continued to glare at the child and watched him carefully. He already knew what the issue was and he began mentally running through the steps that would come next; it had been a long time since he had changed a poopy diaper.

Morty had calmed just down long enough to look back at his grandfather, though he was still clearly upset. He was hungry and very uncomfortable, his mouth hurt, this person wasn't his mother and he was still waking up. All of these factors contributed to his current mood and the youngster scrunched his little face up, resuming the loud miserable wailing.

Rick made an irritated huff and carried Morty over to the changing table. "Stop making that noise, i-it's not all that bad. It's only a big sloppy wet turd." He got out everything he needed to before starting, suddenly remembering how much he hated this part. "I gotta be level with you, kid... I've shit myself before. It's not something I'm proud of, but... it's something you get over pretty quickly, i-it's not the end of the world."

"OK, so I gotta negotiate with you, little buddy. We gotta lay down some ground rules if this is going to become a regular thing with you." He popped open the press-studs on the bottom of the baby's onesie; if he could scowl further as he opened the diaper, he would have. "Rule number one: w-we do not piss or shit on Grandpa... got that? It's a violation of my... m-my personal space and I do not consent to it." He immediately pulled out a packet of baby wipes and began cleaning him up.

Morty simply replied with whimpering noises, though his volume had lowered now; the mere presence of a familiar person was enough to start calming him down.

Rick finished the job quickly, throwing everything into the trash as he went, not wanting to spend any more time on the task than necessary. Once he had placed the clean diaper snugly around the baby's waist, he fastened the tapes up and stripped the onesie off him entirely, as it would have needed laundering anyway. He picked up the youngster and set him down on the floor, before he rolled up the poopy diaper and tossed it into the lidded diaper pail beside the changing table.

"Don't move anywhere, kid. And more importantly, DON'T get into anything while I'm out of the room." Rick stepped out to wash his hands, though he momentarily lingered at the doorway. "I'm trusting you on this one, little buddy. Don't blow it."

Morty watched the spiky haired man leave with indifference, then shakily got to his feet and clumsily moved across the room so he could push over his toy box. By the time Rick had come back, the little boy had already thrown out more than half of the toys and was sitting on the floor among the mess he had made, chewing on the ear of his stuffed rabbit. Of all his toys, he liked that one most of all.

"What did I just say to you, kiddo? Sheesh." Rick navigated his way through the clutter and went through the closet in the corner of the room to pick out something that he thought was suitable. Once he had the clothes ready, he bent down and pulled a yellow t-shirt over Morty's head before the kid could move or put up a fight. He attempted to put pants on him next, but Morty had already begun trying to escape.

Rick was faster and simply grabbed him by the arm. "Not another step. Though, you know what? I get it... sometimes I hate wearing pants too, b-but you still need to wear them because it's cold outside." He grumbled as he grabbed the youngster up off the floor and fought with him as he struggled to get his pants on. Somehow, through the wiggling and leg kicking, he managed the feat.

Once successful, he held the kid against his side and looked down at him. Morty was well over a year old now, nearly a year and a half. He was walking confidently; that developmental milestone had been right on time. Rick had also noticed that the kid was keen to explore the world around him and get into anything he could. He hadn't started talking yet, which Beth worried about, but maybe that was a good thing; most people Rick knew talked far too much for him to tolerate them for very long. However, he could tolerate his grandson and then some; he'd known the kid since birth, but like any baby, he was boring initially. Now that he was growing bigger, his little personality was starting to come out and flourish and Rick found himself coming up with more reasons to come over and spend time with him. Although he would never want to admit to it, somehow he'd managed to fall in love along the way.

As the little boy stared back up him, Rick couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for him in the future; he could see the sharp attentiveness in his eyes as they focused on him, keen and bright. Although he wasn't talking, it didn't matter; he was full of potential, even if he did have Jerry's genes.

Morty wasn't really sure what to make of the situation. Although he knew exactly who this person was, he still wasn't his mother. He began to grumble and whine again as he pulled at his grandfather's clothes, trying to indicate that he was hungry.

"Yeah, I know. I'm on it." Rick took the cue and headed out to the kitchen. He placed the kid into his high chair, tied a bib around his neck and opened a jar of banana baby food, thankful for the fact he didn't have to do anything else; he hated cooking. Thankfully for him, Morty was hungry so he didn't have to do the puerile airplane thing with the spoon; he was well above such stupidity.

"So, rule number two," Rick began explaining as he shoveled a large glob of of lumpy yellow mush into the youngster's mouth with a plastic spoon. "Don't vomit on Grandpa. In fact, save it for your father." He had to smirk at that thought. "You can throw up on the floor, anyone else, or... or even on yourself. Hell, I've done that more times than I care to admit." He shoveled another spoonful of mush into Morty's mouth, lightly poking the kid in the shoulder with his free hand to emphasize his words. "But don't do it on Grandpa. Again, i-it's a violation of my personal spa-UUURRRPce. Got that?"

Morty made a loud happy squeal in response to Rick's burping, his attention on his grandfather's thick spiky hair; it swayed as he talked and moved his head. He reached up, wanting to grab at it.

Rick took the happy noise as a sign of agreement. "Good. Glad to see we're on the same page for once." He finished feeding Morty and tossed the jar into the sink. After wiping the excess food off the kid's face, he pulled him out of the high chair and held him at his side again, looking down at him expectantly.

"OK, kid. Your call, you're the boss now. Do you want to watch TV or something?"

Morty made another happy burble in reply and then made a loud burp, his attention fixated on Rick's hair.

Rick chuckled at the sound. "Y-yeah, OK, you got me. I can see how we're related now."

He moved back into the lounge room, sat back down on the couch and set Morty down beside him, although he really wasn't interested in watching TV. Morty had all of his attention now; he was way more interested in simply watching his grandson be himself. Now that he was big enough to explore the world around him with some degree of independence, he was only getting more entertaining and it was amusing as hell to watch.

Morty immediately reached forward to grab at Rick's arm, gripping onto his shirt to haul himself up onto his feet. Once standing, he grabbed up at the first tuft of spiked hair he could reach and yanked on it.

Rick sat there patiently and let him. "Go for it, kiddo, just don't pull too hard. I'll let you know when it hurts." If it were anyone else in the world, Rick would have never let anyone near his hair and would have shoved them away. But for Morty, he would show all the self-restraint in the world; he'd already taken a hefty poke in the eye on a previous babysitting episode, and on one occasion, Morty had been playing a stomping game in his lap and had accidentally stomped a heel straight into his most sensitive of regions. Despite this, he was happy to absorb the kid's excesses of energy without deflating his spirit. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Rick was crazy about his grandson; he even preferred being around him than some of his own friends.

Morty had finally grown tired of playing with Rick's hair. He sat down beside his grandfather and began idly chewing on his shirt. He made soft unhappy noises each time he bit down on the fabric and had begun drooling.

"Yeah, I know, buddy. Your mom told me that you're teething." Rick gently nudged the kid off him and waited until he was sitting on the couch cushion before getting to his feet. "Stay there, and this time I mean it. Actually... scratch that. You can help me find something." He knew it was better to grab the kid up and take him with him rather than risk having him fall off the couch.

Once back in the kitchen, he set Morty down on the floor and immediately began going through the drawers. Nothing. He checked the kitchen cupboards, going through all the plasticware and cooking pots, still finding nothing.

"Damn it. Where the hell does your mom keep your dumb baby sh-" He cut himself off quickly, not wanting to curse in front of the youngster. "Where does your mother keep all your stuff, kiddo?"

Morty didn't make a sound in reply as he was currently preoccupied playing with a bottle cap he had found on the floor.

Rick sighed at the sight and scooped him up off the floor again. "That's not for you, little buddy. You're only going to shove it in your mouth, and then you'll choke to death, and your mother will blame me despite the fact you're the one who made that choice in the first place. B-baby logic, right? Sheesh." Despite his words, he was grinning; Morty had already forgotten all about the bottle cap and was making another grab at his hair.

Rick carried the kid across the room to the fridge and resumed his search, soon finding what he was after; an entire container of teething rings. Fortunately for him, Beth was a prepared mother who planned everything ahead of time and she had the sense to keep them ready to go in the freezer. Rick silently thanked his daughter's preparedness as he grabbed two teething rings out of the open container and immediately popped one into Morty's mouth.

Morty wasted no time grabbing onto it so he could start chewing.

"There you go, kiddo, d-don't say that Grandpa doesn't do anything for you. I got you, bro." As he watched the young kid, his brows furrowed in thought; a strange idea had suddenly come to mind. He shuffled the youngster and firmly held him in one arm up against his hip as he returned to the crockery cupboard, grabbing up a bowl.

"Your mom will probably kill me for this, but what she doesn't know can't hurt her, right?" Rick dropped the spare frozen teething ring into the bowl and carried Morty back out to the lounge room. "Don't tell her anything. What happens with Grandpa stays with Grandpa."

He placed the bowl down on the coffee table and set Morty back down on the couch. He took out his hip flask and began pouring whiskey into the bowl, measuring out just enough to immerse the teething ring in the stuff.

"Again, don't tell her about this, but if it works, then who cares, right?" Rick let the whiskey-soaked teething ring sit for a moment before dipping two fingers in to pick it out, swapping it over with the one Morty had. He licked the fingers he had in the bowl and began to observe the reaction, curious to see what would happen.

Morty immediately reacted to the new taste sensation with positive sounding noises; he didn't know what the new flavor was, but he seemed to really like the strong taste. He held onto the new teething ring with both hands, seeming much happier to chew on the new one over the old.

"Is it working? Should be. Anyway, t-that should numb your mouth for a while, little buddy." Rick explained to his grandson, not seeming to care in the slightest that he was a baby and wouldn't understand, "and if your mom bitches, you can basically tell her we're cutting out the middle-man. That teething gel crap she gives you? It's basically glycerin gel with alcohol in it."

Rick figured it would keep him occupied for a while and resumed watching television, changing the channel over to a childish looking animated cartoon for Morty.

Over the next couple of hours, Rick would swap the teething rings over, noting that Morty seemed much happier to chew on them after they were immersed in whiskey. He would have shared his observations with Beth when she got home, but he knew even mentioning it would have her yelling at him about giving alcohol to her son. It would have also provided her with a great opportunity to complain about his alcohol dependency issues, which weren't issues at all, at least in his eyes.

It was often a sore point of conversation between them that ended in one or the other walking away in anger; Beth typically brought it up because she was worried. Meanwhile, Rick wasn't worried at all - it was a comfortable habit that relaxed him and he could give it up any time he wanted to; he just chose not to. His daughter brought it up so often that he was immune to her complaints by now, but he wasn't about to risk his chances at being allowed to babysit again.

"R-remind me to hide the evidence before your mom comes home." Rick took a short swig from his hip flask and recapped it, stuffing it back into his shirt pocket. "We don't want to get into any shi-UUURRGGt."

The next hour was spent entertaining his young grandson with toys. Now that he wasn't in pain anymore, he was very playful. Morty seemed to like it best when Rick made spaceship noises with the stuffed animals as he waved them around in the air before playfully crashing them straight into his belly; he could do it as many times as he wanted and the youngster would still squeal with laughter every time. He was pretty easy to please.

Rick took the time out to clean up the teething rings that had been soaking in booze and disposed of the evidence down the sink, rinsing everything thoroughly afterwards. Although it was a shame to waste such expensive whiskey, it had baby slobber in it.

Soon after that, he had retrieved the acoustic guitar he kept in his car, figuring that playing some tunes would keep the both of them occupied for a while. He also decided it would probably be a good idea to impart his love of music onto the impressionable youngster as early as he could.

He sat down on the floor with the case and immediately lay on the carpet next to Morty, propping his upper belly up on his elbows.

"Hey kid, you probably don't know this, but... your Grandpa has a pretty good ear for music." He grinned as Morty shuffled across the floor to him with great interest. "I used to be in a band... I was the lead guitarist. They used to call me the axe-man." He lowered his head as he watched Morty make another grab for his hair and he sat there patiently while the tiny pair of hands grabbed at great clumps of spikes, pulling on them. "Yeah, my hair was better back then, too. Glad to see it keeps you happy."

When Morty tried to stuff one of the spikes into his mouth, Rick gently pried the kid's hands off again and sat up properly, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"Yeah, don't slobber on me, I do plenty of that already. Save it for yourself." He unzipped the guitar case and took out the large musical instrument, setting it in his lap. "If you want... when you're a little older, I'll show you how to use this." He moved one hand up the fret of the guitar and began to pluck a few strings with the other, testing to see if the thing was still in tune.

Morty was fascinated by the unusual object and the strange new noises. He wasted no time standing up and clumsily stumbling across the short space to the guitar, practically falling onto it as he grabbed at the strings. When he discovered that they made noise, he giggled in amusement and began whacking them with his hands.

Rick didn't seem to mind too much as he played a couple more chords, letting the kid's tiny hands disrupt the harmony of the sound he was creating. "You can do that if you want, but," he reached back to retrieve a plectrum from the guitar case. "If you keep that up, you'll break my strings. It's a giant pain in the ass to replace them, so be a little more gentle, huh?" He tapped the rounded bottom end of the instrument. "Why don't you play with this part instead?" He casually rapped his fingers on the case, demonstrating the loud wooden noise that it made when he did it.

Morty began to imitate what Rick had just done, whacking the guitar with the palms of his hands, squealing with joy at the discovery of making a such a loud noise.

"You wanna hear a song, little buddy? I know all the classics. Good stuff, none of that new bullcrap." He hummed for a couple of moments as he tried to remember something, then continued the tune by strumming it out.

Morty wasn't listening; hitting the base of the guitar was far more entertaining for him than anything else could have been right now.

"Actually, come to think of it, I know one that kinda reminds me of you," Rick took a moment to retune the guitar strings and then began casually playing the opening riffs to 'Closing Time'. "Like I said, one of the classics. And if you want a piece of trivia, it's actually not about a bar." He paused, smirking. "Yeah, I know. Your mom would probably have something to say about that."

Morty had stopped hitting the side of the guitar and was listening to the harmonious guitar music now.

Rick grinned down at his grandson, seeming quite pleased to have his attention. He began singing the words aloud, strumming out the music on the strings, _"Closing time, open all the doors and let you out into the world,"_ he began nodding his head in time to the beat. _"Closing time, turn all of the lights up over every boy and every girl..."_ He sang loudly and his key was on point. Fingers expertly moved across the strings as they had done many times before, not skipping a single note.

" _You don't have to go home, but you can't… stay here."_

Before long, Rick had his eyes closed and his mind was totally focused on strumming out the rest of the song, losing himself to it entirely. As he sang, he put his heart into it and nothing else in the world mattered to him in that moment except for the fact that he was singing for his favorite little person.

He was so involved in what he was doing that he didn't see Jerry come in the front door, nor did he see the other approaching him. It wasn't until he opened his eyes again that he saw him overhead, a sort of dumb expression hanging over his face.

Rick immediately stopped playing and was silent.

"Wow, don't stop on account of me." Jerry said suddenly, looking quite pleased with himself.

Rick scowled and moved his hands away from the strings, leaning an arm on the side of his guitar. "Hello Jeeeerrrryyyy." He drawled out the name with particular bitterness. "What do you want?"

"Wow, Rick," Jerry replied, "that was actually... really good! I didn't know you could play the guitar. I didn't know you could sing either."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Jerry." Rick set his brows in a deep scowl. He hated the fact that Jerry had walked in on him while playing and felt a little self-conscious about it. He certainly didn't want to talk about the subject anymore, especially if he was going to be open to his musical ability being criticized. "How long have you been standing there?" He quickly stuffed the guitar back into its case.

At that moment, Beth had come in through the front door as well. She said nothing and walked off down the hallway.

"Oh don't worry, I just got in," Jerry's smirk was condescending as he looked down at Rick, liking the elevated position he had over the other man. "I've had a really big day and I think I just landed a new job at a big advertising firm. If I get it, we just might need you around the house to babysit a bit more, if it doesn't disrupt your work, that is. What is it you even do again? Some kinda important science stuff? It can't be that important, can it?" His eyes narrowed and his smirk was even wider now. "We never hear about it on the news or anything."

Rick glowered back at the other man with utter contempt for his entire existence, not saying anything. He didn't want to hear any of it and he didn't like the fact the other was openly mocking what he did with his time. He opened his mouth to protest, but when he saw that Beth had moved to stand behind Jerry, he knew better to just keep his mouth shut. He didn't need to do anything; the guy knew how to get himself in trouble without his help.

Meanwhile, Morty wanted to play again. He sharply tugged at Rick's sleeve and made demanding nonsensical noises at him, trying to get his attention.

Rick silently glared back at Jerry's smug face for another moment, locking eyes with him, wordlessly expressing the fact that he hated him with every fiber of his being. In another moment he had decided that he wanted to ignore him entirely and returned his attention towards Morty, picking him up. "Hey there, buddy," he held him comfortably in one arm and wiggled a finger across the youngster's belly with his free hand, "I'm glad you liked it."

"Nice to see you're able to make friends with people of your own age and maturity level there, Rick." Jerry folded his arms, feeling confident in continuing his verbal assault. "He's cute now, but he might not like you when he's older."

That one had felt like a punch straight to the gut. He didn't show it, however. "Wow, Jerry... just wow." Rick stayed down, glaring hard. He felt his blood boiling now, but he kept himself contained. "I was just having a private moment, trying to connect with my grandson down here. I didn't ask for any of your attitude. What did I do to you? You don't have to be a jerk about it."

"Oh, you're one to talk!" Jerry hissed back, stepping forward to stand directly over him now. He placed his hands on his hips, adopting a posture of superiority. "You openly mock me and expect me to take it from you. Screw you, Rick! What have you ever done for this family?"

"Jerry?" Beth spoke behind him, her voice cool and very angry. "Why are you talking to my dad like that?"

"Oh heeey, sweetheart," Jerry flinched at her voice and turned around suddenly, offering his best pathetic grin. "I didn't see you come in. How was work...?"

Beth simply folded her arms and glared at her husband, silent.

"I don't like it, Jerry," Rick continued to talk as he lowered his head, acting out his best impression of sounding hurt. He knew damn well that Beth was watching and listening to their every word and fully intended to use it to his advantage. "I come into your house, take care of your kids for you, for free I might add, and you want to behave like that towards me? Why...?" He made his voice break a little, and he knew not to overdo it in case he was caught out.

"Oh come on, Rick... enough with this charade. You always behave like a total douchebag towards me!" Jerry took the bait right away and raised his voice. "Don't pretend you're innocent!"

"Whoa, language!" Rick protested suddenly and covered Morty's ears with his hands. "Not in front of the kid, Jer. Do you want him to have a filthy potty mouth? You want him to grow up with good influences, right?"

"Good influences? You best be staying away from him then, Rick!" Jerry was yelling now. "You say far worse things than that all the time!"

"For the love of god, Jerry, just stop!" Beth snapped at him. "Stop being such an unbearable asshole to my dad! He did a huge favor for us today, did you know that? Do you know how hard it is to get a babysitter with only half an hour's notice? Do you!? Have some damn respect for the guy. We're going to talk about this in the kitchen, right now!" She grabbed her husband by the arm and hauled him away.

Rick raised his head as he watched them go, a wide victorious toothy grin on his face; a dark part of him actually found it fun to play the two off against each other. He gently held Morty in his arms to keep him quiet through the screaming match that ensued in the next room over. "Try not to get yourself into that mess later in life, kiddo." He told him quietly, his expression turning serious; this time he actually meant it. "You're perfectly fine the way you are."

After the screaming had died down, Rick got to his feet carefully, the baby still cradled in his arms. Morty had begun uncomfortably wiggling and grunting, his little belly rumbling in protest. At once he knew the kid was working on something horrible.

"Heh, what perfect timing you have."

Morty stopped wiggling after another couple of moments. He relaxed again, looking absolutely dreamily content; that one had hurt to push out.

"Whew. You little stinker." Rick wrinkled his nose at the smell in the air. He headed back out to the kitchen and handed baby Morty back over to Jerry, frowning at him. "Look, Jerry, I get it... you win. You're a real alpha male, a proud confident breadwinner. Y-you're the real man of the house, not me. So you should probably take care of this, huh? You're his father, after all."

Jerry clumsily took the youngster back, visibly cringing when the smell hit his nostrils. "Ah geez, Morty has a poopy diaper." He turned his attention towards Beth, his expression pathetic and pleading. "Can't you do this one...? Honey?"

Beth watched the two males, teary-eyed. When Jerry tried to hand her son over, she kept her arms folded, refusing to take him. "You heard him. You're quite capable of doing it yourself. Off you go." Her reply was cool and dismissive.

Jerry lowered his head in defeat and walked out of the room, carrying one very stinky baby in his arms.

Rick watched him leave and waited until he was gone before speaking again. "Hey sweetie, sorry about that. I don't know what got into him." He rubbed the back of his head, feigning his best impression of unhappiness. "I-I'm just going to take off now, it seems to be for the best... you totally have this one handled. I'll just take my guitar and leave."

"Oh geez, Dad..." Beth shook her head, feeling terrible for him. "I'm so sorry about Jerry. I don't know why he has to be such an asshole to you, but please, don't let it get to you, OK? We love you and I really valued your help today. You're a lifesaver."

Rick slowly nodded in response. He reached out to gently pat his daughter once on the shoulder and then retreated back into the lounge room to retrieve his guitar case. He headed out the front door, though he slowed down when he noticed that Beth was following in his peripheral vision. He raised an eyebrow and turned so he could look at her again, stopping on the pathway to the letterbox.

"Dad?" Beth stopped as soon as he had. She placed a hand on his shoulder, sighing. "Really, I mean it. Don't let Jerry get to you, I'm sorry he's such an asshole."

"It's OK, really." Rick replied, his voice calm. "I get it."

"Dad," Beth said suddenly, "I'm really sorry to put this on you again, but I have to rush off to work again tomorrow morning. Can you swing by for a couple of hours and watch Morty again? Same time as today."

Rick responded with a singular nod of agreement. "Sure." He was silent for a moment, then quietly added to the statement. "Say hi to Summer for me when you pick her up from daycare. One of these days I'll have to come over on a weekend so we can actually spend time together. Take her out to the park or some crap like that, I-I don't know what kids do these days."

"That would be really nice." Beth squeezed his arm, suddenly feeling quite happy at the suggestion. "Thanks for taking Morty again tomorrow. He seems to really like you, and I'd rather leave him with you than a total stranger from the babysitting agency."

Rick stepped over to his car, opening up the door. "Of course." He climbed in and shut the door, winding the window down so he could speak again. " You can count on me any time... y-you know that, right?"

"Thanks so much, Dad." Beth sighed, smiling. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief, feeling so much better than she had a little while ago.

"You're welcome, sweetie." Rick quickly replied, and then started the car. He reversed out of the driveway and drove off down the street. Once out of view from the house, he pressed a few buttons on the center console and took it into the sky, flying off over the horizon.

Tomorrow was going to be interesting. And it would be, in a way that he never would have guessed.


	2. Once Morty With Feeling

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.

 **NOTE:** Tidied for grammar and repeats removed. 9000+ word chapter, enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 2 – Once Morty With Feeling**

 **November 17th, 8:40 AM, 2001  
** **Suburbia  
** **Earth, Dimension Unknown**

* * *

Rick knocked on the front door of the Smith's house but nobody answered this time. He knocked again after a moment of waiting and narrowed his eyes as he stepped back to peer through the vertical glass panels in the front door, not seeing anyone on the other side. He tried a hand on the doorknob, discovering that it was unlocked. With that observation noted, he simply took a quick chug of whiskey from his hip flask and let himself in; Beth would be expecting him by now anyway.

People yelling at each other seemed to be rather standard fare in the household and today was no different; this time he could hear the sounds of Beth and Jerry embroiled in yet another domestic dispute, their hollering so loud that it easily echoed through the rest of the house from their position in the kitchen.

"This seems to be part of the regular morning routine, huh? Well that's just fucking fantastic. What a grrrrrreee-UURRRRPat start to the morning." Rick folded his arms across his chest, completely unimpressed.

He felt a sudden bump at his lower left leg and turned his attention downwards, immediately noticing that his granddaughter was clutching at the fabric of his pants. "Oh hey there, Summer. Did you come over to say hello this time?"

Summer hugged Rick's leg tighter, looking upset. "Mommy and Daddy are mad..."

"Yeah kiddo, it's a tough break." He reached down to pick the girl up, discovering that she was a lot heavier than he remembered. "Geez, I'm not going to be able to do this for much longer. Your mom said you were going to be four soon. I bet you're looking forward to getting a huge hoard of presents, huh?"

Summer simply leaned into her grandfather's chest, not replying. She seemed to calm for a moment in his strong yet gentle grip, though her focus was still on the yelling in the next room.

"You know, kiddo," Rick used his free hand to lightly press his index finger on the end of her little nose. "If you don't want it, you don't have to take it from them. We are the masters of our own destiny. You don't have to put up with that shit, y-you can stop it any time you want to."

Summer blinked at him, wide-eyed. Some of what he said had gone completely over her head, but the last sentence had stuck and now she was curious. "How?"

"You're a kid, do what you do best... turn it up to eleven." Rick was smirking now. "Start up the waterworks. Pee in your pants. Throw your stuff around and have a tantrum. Hell, drop to the floor in front of them and start screaming. Y-you're the one with the power here, kiddo, not them. Make them pay attention to you."

Rick knew damn well that he shouldn't be encouraging the kind of behavior he was suggesting, lest she use the same tactic against himself in the future. But if he could arm the young girl with a useful strategy and cheer her up again, he was willing to do whatever it took.

Summer seemed to perk up a bit at his advice. She began wiggling out of Rick's arms, her attention on the kitchen. Rick took the cue and gently set her down on the floor, tilting his head as he observed his granddaughter run off; he was genuinely curious to see how this one would play out. A rather pleased grin came over his face the moment he heard her start up the tirade of screaming; she had taken to his advice right away.

"I SO pity the idiot that tries to double-cross her one day. Heh..." He took another swig from his hip flask before stashing it in his lab coat pocket and headed into the kitchen, his expression suddenly turning to his best impression of worry.

"Oh, so what's going on here?" Rick stood over Summer and motioned down at her with both hands as he glared at Jerry, then at Beth, finally fixing his attention back on Jerry. "Can you two just shut up for five minutes so this kid can have a moment of peace? Can't you see your arguing is making your kids miserable? Fix your damn marriage or get a divorce already. If you don't do something, you're going to be paying for a crap-ton of therapy for my grandkids before they even reach puberty."

"Oh god, Dad, I don't need your opinion too!" Beth made an exasperated sigh as she could smell fresh alcohol on her father's breath. She chose not to say anything about it as she stepped across the kitchen to pick up her screaming daughter, and began rocking her in her arms in an attempt to calm her down. "Look, I appreciate that you're back in our lives, but I'm not about to take parenting advice from you." She raised both eyebrows suddenly, immediately regretting her comment. "Wow, I'm sorry. That... that came out wrong. I take it back."

"You can't take it back, sweetie." Rick folded his arms, turning the edges his mouth down into a firm frown; that one was genuine. "You can't unpoop that turd."

"Yeah, Rick, what the hell?" Jerry suddenly piped up. "Like you know anything about parenti-"

"Can this wait?" Rick rolled his eyes as he cut him off. He began idly drumming an index finger on his elbow as he spoke again. "Preferably until after I'm dead."

"Why are you even here again?" Jerry leered at the other and stood tall on his heels, folding his arms, going on the defensive. "This is the second day in a row that I didn't want to see you!"

"Oh shut up, Jerry. Did you forget already?" Beth snapped at him. "He's babysitting Morty again today. I have work in an hour and I thought it would be nice for him to come over earlier than yesterday so I could keep him updated." She continued rocking Summer in her arms, seeming pleased when the young girl cuddled against her, becoming calm once more.

"Updated with what?" Jerry blinked, suddenly confused. "Is there something going on that I should know about? Is there something wrong with Morty?"

"No, it's just basic courtesy, Jerry!" Beth replied hotly. "Don't you think it would be nice to nice for my dad to be briefed about what's going on in our kids' lives, rather than having to work it out for himself while I'm running out the door?" She paused deliberately, her anger rising once again. "But of course you don't think about these things, Jerry. You just palm the kids off onto me whenever anything is wrong!"

Jerry just stared back at her, dumbstruck, completely silent. He had no idea how to reply to that one.

"Don't worry about it, sweetie," Rick replied instead, "I'm not as clueless as 'Mister Career' over here." The older man raised his chin, a proud confident smirk of superiority coming over his face. "I'm a man of science. Kids are about straightforward as things come. Put food and liquids in one end, clean up whatever comes out the other. Rinse, repeat, etcetera, etcetera." He made circular motions with his hands as he talked, indicating the constantly repeating cycle.

"Beth, we'll talk about this one later, OK?" Jerry turned his attention back towards Rick. "Don't think you've gotten away with anything, pal. You know, come to think of it... maybe we should just hire a babysitter. I think I'd rather be paying for it than having to put up wi-"

"I'm going to stop you there, Jerry. Just stop talking." Rick cut him off a second time and raised his right hand up, making a halting motion. He went silent and resumed folding his arms again.

Jerry just stood there, dumbly blinking back at him. When Rick didn't make a reply, he opened his mouth again to speak, quiet for another couple of moments. "Umm... well? What were you going to say?"

"Oh no, I didn't have anything to say." Rick replied, his tone cold. "I just wanted you to stop talking. Do you hear the sound of that?" He put a hand to his ear and paused. "It's called silence, Jerry. It's you, not talking. It's beautiful. I like it. I like it a lot." A smug grin came over his face once again; he just couldn't help himself. This was far too much fun.

"Oh screw you, Rick!" Jerry was yelling now. "There you go again, listen to him openly mocking me, Beth!" He turned to face her, still yelling. "Look at him! He's HAPPY about it! Your father picks on me all the time and you do nothing! Why don't you ever do anything about it?!"

"Jerry, I don't have time to do this anymore." Beth repositioned Summer in her arms as she was getting heavy and uncomfortable to hold. "And neither do you, look at the time. You're going to be late for work." She shook her head. "On your first day, too. How sad." It was sarcasm. Her expression was flat; she wasn't sad at all.

"What?!" Jerry suddenly looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. "Oh my god, why didn't you tell me!? I have to get going right away!" He dashed out of the room again, leaving the rest of his family behind in the kitchen.

"Wow, he seems organized." Rick's eyes tracked the other as he watched him go.

"Oh be quiet, Dad, just let him be. You have to admit that you pressed all the wrong buttons just now and wound him up for fun." Beth sighed in frustration. She set Summer down on the floor and crouched down onto her knees to kiss her forehead. "Go watch TV, sweetie. Play with your toys, I'll come get you when it's time to go to daycare."

Summer happily ran off down the hallway, returning to the living room.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Rick began to explain, not even a hint of apology in his voice, "I try to be nice, but he dragged it out of me." That was a lie, too; both of them knew damn well that it had been fun, Beth had even said so herself. He knew not to push it anymore and took out his hip flask, taking another couple of small sips from it. Instead of pocketing it right away, he held it in his right hand this time, figuring he would probably need it again soon.

"Look Dad, I..." Beth trailed off as she rose up, correcting her posture to stand once again. She stared at the open flask and placed a hand on her forehead, releasing a heavy sigh of frustration; it made her extremely irritated that her father was drinking again and she held back the desire to launch into another tirade about his alcohol abuse.

Rick just stood there, idly drumming an index finger on the side of the flask as he patiently waited for her to continue.

"No, you know what?" Beth shook her head and waved her hands out in front of her, dismissing the whole thing. "I can't deal with this right now. I'm running out of time and you need to know what's going on."

"Oh... o-okay?" Rick raised an eyebrow. Now even he was curious; this was the second time she was mentioning it and he began wondering if something was legitimately wrong. He opened his mouth to say something else, but out came a loud rumbling burp instead. He used the back of his left hand to wipe the drool off his mouth.

"Just forget it." Beth said suddenly. "Follow me upstairs, there's a lot I have to get off my mind."

Rick nodded silently and pocketed the flask again, following. Beth made her way to the top of the staircase, headed down the hallway and turned right straight into Morty's room. The blonde haired woman wasted no time moving the distance across the room to the crib and peered down over the edge, sighing. Just looking down at the little boy made her feel so much better already.

Morty didn't acknowledge his mother's presence. He was still very much asleep and on his left side, curled up in a fetal position. He slept with his mouth open and was drooling. His breathing was slow, even and calm; he was a picture of peacefulness.

"They're always so cute when they're asleep." Beth smiled, suddenly filled with a sense of proud giddy happiness just looking down at her baby son. "Just look at him, Dad. Isn't he adorable?"

Rick stood beside her and peered down momentarily. "Yeah, I-I guess they're like that for a while." He stood up again and folded his arms across his chest. "Then they get bigger. Then they're a giant thorn in your ass, and then they start asking for money. One day you have the cutest kid in the entire universe. Next thing you know, your wife is cheating on you with some arrogant eff-tard of a doctor just because he has a fancy-ass car and a lot of money." His expression darkened as he scowled, his brows furrowing as deeply as they would go. "And a tiny dick." He added the last part with particular vitriol.

Beth sighed at him. "Dad..."

Rick glared down at the floor, ignoring her. "One day you're tricked into thinking you're happy, but it's a lie. The next thing you know, they have you by the balls and you realize that you were better off alone." He knew he was rambling now, but for some reason, he couldn't stop. "Then you're halfway across the fucking universe tied up in some stupid game of..." He caught himself finally, surprised at how quickly that had all slipped out. "Whatever. I don't care."

"Dad..."

"You can ask, but it's not going to happen," Rick grunted back at her. "C-can't do it. I just can't get sentimental about this kind of stuff anymore." He raised his head again reluctantly, half expecting Beth to be looking at him with that dumb expression of pity she often took on him. Instead, she was smiling at him and he raised both eyebrows suddenly, taken aback; he couldn't work out why.

"Oh, Dad," Beth sighed at him, "I asked you to come up here so I could talk to you and now you're the one doing the talking. It sounds like you need to let it out more than I do."

"Tch!" Rick suddenly turned his head away, glaring. "S-shut up..." He took his hip flask out again, unscrewing the cap. "You make it sound like it's a fart or something."

Beth ignored the remark and stared directly at the flask. "If there's ever anything you need help with," she deliberately paused, hoping he would get the clue, "I'm here for you, Dad."

Rick loudly snorted in response, positively disgusted. He knew exactly what she had meant and didn't want to get into it. He simply went silent again and averted his attention to the door, already having half a mind to just leave. Either way, he was absolutely fed up with the whole conversation. He had no skill in conveying 'please stop talking about this subject' whatsoever.

Beth decided to let him go; she knew she was pushing too far and could see that her father was just mentally blocking her out. She instead returned her attention back down to her sleeping son and decided to change the subject. "There are a couple of things I need to tell you, Dad. I took Morty to the pediatrician last week because he was due for his next round of vaccinations. Not only that, I took him because he's still not talking... at all. He still only makes basic communicative sounds and gestures. Everything else is fine, he's healthy and happy and I should be grateful about that, but..."

"I'm going to stop you right there. Why do we keep talking about this?" Rick grunted in frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose, still very much riled up and angry from before. "I've told you time and time again, stop worrying about it, he'll be fine. Some kids take longer at this stuff than others. Be thankful for the fact he's not talking... once they start, they never frickin' shut up." He took another swig of his hip flask and finally put it away again. He wanted to down the whole thing after what had happened, but he knew that he had to be a responsible adult today.

"I know, I know, I shouldn't be worried, but..." Beth sighed, shaking her head. "The pediatrician wanted to do a blood test to make sure there's not something more serious going on, because-"

"Because there isn't." Rick cut her off, narrowing his eyes.

"Dad, shut the hell up and let me finish!" Beth snapped at him.

Rick raised his eyebrows at her, pulled an irritated face, then resumed glaring back at the doorway. He decided he would just be silent now, because it was easier that way. All he wanted now was to hurry it along and be done with it so Beth would just go away already and leave him be with the kid.

"Anyway, we got the results back from the blood test," Beth continued. "His Vitamin D is low. He needs to go out in the sunlight for at least 15 minutes every day. He could also do with gaining a bit more weight. As for the talking, the pediatrician asked us to just talk to him more often. She said that if he keeps hearing us talk, he'll pick it up and start talking back."

Rick looked back at her this time, one eyebrow raised; was she trying to imply something? "I talk to him." He replied simply after another moment of silence.

"Dad, don't bullshit me. I know you, why would you want to talk to a baby? You don't even like talking to Jerry."

"That's different, Beth."

"How so?" Beth was genuinely curious now.

"Kids are generally stupid because they haven't matured enough to know any better, but they're still making thousands of neural connections every day so they still have potential." Rick sounded vaguely irritated that he even needed to explain this. "Jerry is an adult, he's fully matured. If you can call it that... point is, there's no hope for him." He shook his head, frustrated. "If I had a whiteboard, I would draw up a diagram for you, i-it's a big bell curve that demonstrates intelligence. Most people fall in the middle of it. Jerry, though? He's sitting right at the bottom left. He's not just a regular idiot, nope, I've seen far too many of those in my time. Hell, Jerry makes some of those dumbasses look smart... he's the dumbest idiot in the entire universe."

"Wow, ooookaaay." Beth's reply was sharp; she was totally done talking to her father about this. She knew she probably deserved it though, and couldn't even berate him for turning the conversation back to Jerry again because she was the one who had brought it up in the first place.

Rick casually shrugged at her. "I'm only stating the facts here, Beth."

The blonde haired woman sighed in exasperation as she looked down at her watch, making note of the time. "I can't do this anymore, Dad. I have to go to work. Remember what I said... stuff Morty full of snacks if he has any desire to eat something. Make sure you take him out, he needs sunlight."

"Got it." Rick grunted; he was totally done with the conversation.

Beth's eyes widened as she suddenly remembered something. She reached under the changing table and pulled out a large baby-blue cloth bag with a singular strap on it. "Here," she held it out for him to take, "I packed this for you. It's stuffed full of diapers and pretty much everything else he'll need. There's a stroller in the garage if you want to use it."

Rick made a noise somewhere between irritation and disgust. "No." He grabbed the bag by the handle and immediately dumped it on the floor at his feet. "I don't want to touch that stupid torture device with wheels, i-it's embarrassing. It's also a huge waste of space. I'll just drive somewhere and walk around with him, he's easy enough to carry."

"You're going to walk it, Dad." Beth's voice suddenly became dangerous and authoritative. "You've already had too much to drink this morning and I don't want you getting done by the cops for driving under the influence."

"Watch it!" Rick sharply retorted, narrowing his eyes at her.

Beth ignored him. "I have a baby harness if you want that." She had to smile just a little at the mental image those words conjured up; the thought of her father carrying Morty on his back was kind of cute. "I got it from one of my old friends during Morty's baby shower, but it was too big when he was born. He's easily big enough for it now, but I've never used it. The only reason I didn't throw it away is because it was one of the good quality ones with the anti-puke guard on it."

Rick couldn't have given a damn about the story behind the thing, but shutting up was easier than getting into another argument. He folded his arms once more, making no secret of the fact that he was utterly, utterly bored.

"I think it's still in one of the boxes in the garage. Just look for the ones marked 'baby stuff'. It's black." Beth hurriedly stepped towards the door, stopping in the doorway to look back at him. "Oh, and make sure you change him when he wakes up. He's going to be soaking wet. Sorry I didn't have the time to do it first." She stepped out into the hallway and walked away.

"Bye." It didn't come out kindly; the conversation had gone on far too long for his liking and he was relieved to see his daughter leave him in the quiet with his sleeping grandson.

Rick kicked at the bag at his feet as a means to dissipate some of his anger. He also hated looking at it; it was far too big for his liking and he knew that he would look positively ridiculous hauling it around. He took a moment to inhale deeply, filling up his lungs with air. He held the breath in for a moment and sighed on the exhale; he needed to calm down.

As he leaned over the edge of the crib, he began to wonder if the anger was coming from all the events he had been through in life thus far, or because of how intelligent he was compared to everything else that existed. Perhaps it was because everything in the universe also happened to be incredibly stupid and pointless to begin with, or maybe the anger was just rooted in the fact that he was just turning into a crotchety old man.

 _"Probably all of those things."_ He thought to himself. Getting older wasn't something he wanted to think about, but he knew it was one of the inevitable truths of the universe; everything had a lifespan. Everything from bacteria to larger lifeforms, to suns, to entire galaxy systems. Even the universe itself had a lifespan. Nothing would last forever; everything was going to die eventually.

He pushed it out of his mind like so many other thoughts before it.

When Morty began stirring, his attention turned downwards. The baby had started moving as he began to wake up and made small pathetic noises in discomfort.

Rick knew what would come next if he left it too long so he picked the child up and cradled him in his arms. "Hey there, little buddy. Glad to see you're finally awake. Thank god you slept through most of that mess, it's been a really shitty morning for everyone."

Morty cracked his eyes open and looked up; this wasn't his mother. He wanted her company. Out of all the people he knew, he was attached to her the most. His pathetic sounds grew into louder grumpy noises and he twisted his mouth into a very unhappy expression.

"What are you whining about now?" Rick grumbled, his voice somehow still remaining quiet and gentle as he spoke. "A-are you in a bad mood because you just woke up? Yeah, I get that." He moved the youngster over his shoulder and began patting his back in an attempt to soothe him. Somewhere downstairs, he heard Summer screaming again; Beth was obviously trying to get her out of the house. He couldn't help but smirk a little; that girl was a quick learner.

Morty seemed to calm again with the change of height; he had a short attention span and soon forgot what had made him upset. He made a few more fussing noises as he quietened down and yawned, still in the process of waking up properly.

"Yeah, see. It wasn't a big deal, was it?" Rick just held him there for a couple of moments, waiting to see if his calming mood was only temporary or not. "Y-you actually know how to let shit go. I'm proud of you, little buddy." He heard the door shut downstairs, which meant that they had the house all to themselves. He could do whatever the hell he wanted to.

Perfect.

"So what do you want to do today, kiddo?" Although he knew he wasn't going to get a reply, he asked anyway.

Morty was too busy looking at the colorful decals on his walls to pay attention and respond. He tried to reach out towards them and made a soft noise, expressing his interest in the shapes.

Rick took the opportunity to carry his grandson over to the changing table while he was still quiet, getting done what he needed to with minimal fuss, thankful for the fact there wasn't a giant pile of shit waiting for him this time. After the little boy had been stripped of his clothes and cleaned up properly, he tossed the diaper into the trash and the onesie into the laundry basket.

He drew up both of the baby's legs in the fingers of one hand and dusted his butt off with a bottle of baby powder he held in the other. Rick closed the bottle and tossed it back into the drawers on the changing table. He wasted no time placing the new diaper on and took a moment to brush his fingers against Morty's bare stomach as he did up the tabs.

Morty made a loud sudden squeal of laughter in reaction to the tickling and squirmed around on the table.

Rick immediately thought better of it and stopped, planting a firm hand on the little boy's belly to hold him in place. "Yeaaaaah, it was a bad idea. Don't move around too much while you're up here, kiddo. Don't fall off, either... that's the last thing I want to happen today."

Morty looked back up at him and reached up, grabbing at the air. Rick guessed that he either wanted to be picked up, or he wanted another round at attacking his thick head of spiky hair. With one hand still planted firmly on the little boy, he reached across to the drawers full of clothing nearby. He grabbed up some warm clothes and began dressing him; if they were going out, he would need them on.

Morty actually sat patiently this time and let it happen. He was in a good mood, that was for sure.

Rick picked him up again once he was done, holding him over his head victoriously, almost like a trophy, ridiculously pleased with how easy it had been this time around. "Ohhhh yeaahh!" He loudly cheered, a wide grin on his face. "Not even an ounce of resistance that time. If only you could behave like that more often, huh?" He lowered the little boy once again, knowing full well that if he held him up in the air too long, he was leaving himself open to being puked on.

Morty was positively elated to be held up so high and squealed, joining in with his grandfather's cheering. He looked down at Rick while he was overhead, staring down at his grandfather's wild-eyed, crazy face, responding with a squeal of sheer joy to his happiness.

"Good work, little buddy. Keep it up." Rick placed him over his left shoulder once again, firmly holding him in place as he used his right hand to pick up the cloth bag. "Come with me, we gotta go through some useless shit in the garage if we wanna go out today." He walked out of the bedroom and briskly walked off down the hallway. In another moment, he was down the stairs and in the garage.

Morty made soft curious noises the whole way; he was used to exploring and getting into whatever he could already, but the new height made the whole house look different and offered a new interesting perspective to him.

Once in the garage, Rick set Morty down in the middle of the floor. "Stay there." He instructed with sudden sharpness, pointing at him. He moved over to the laundry sink and began to wash his hands off; he had been meaning to do that as soon as possible. "I-I mean it this time. This isn't like yesterday with the toy box in your room, kid. Stuff can hurt you out here. There are also chemicals stored out here that will kill you if you ingest them."

Morty stayed put initially, sitting squarely on his butt. Though, as he looked around the room, he already saw so many interesting things he could get into. He peered back at Rick as if to check to see what he was doing, then put his hands on the ground, clumsily pushing himself onto his feet.

Rick narrowed his eyes, watching his grandson in his peripheral vision the entire time. He could already see that the youngster's mind was processing what to do with the new environment and when he saw him stand up, he felt his anger rising. He promptly shut off the water tap and strode across the room in three rushed steps, snatching the little boy up off his feet. "What did I just say to you?!" It came out much louder and more harsh than he had intended.

Morty visibly flinched at Rick's outburst; it frightened the hell out of him. His bottom lip quivered and he scrunched up his brow, loudly whimpering. His eyes were brimming with tears and in another instant, he was loudly crying, afraid.

It felt like a kick straight to the gut. "Holy shit..." Rick was a sudden mixture of guilt and regret, his anger dissipating instantly. He hadn't been prepared for that kind of reaction at all; his baby grandson was now crying solely because of him. "Hey buddy, I-I didn't mean it like that. I'm really sorry." He drew the youngster into his chest with a hug, patting his back.

Morty continued his miserable wailing despite the fact that Rick was holding onto him. He flailed his arms in protest and began trying to hit him; all he wanted right now was his mother.

Rick simply held onto the youngster and let him cry it out. The flailing limbs and strikes to his chest didn't hurt at all, but he felt utterly shitty with himself for it anyway. He continued to pat the kid's back, trying to reassure him with words. "Calm down, Morty. Come on." He lowered his head, lightly bumping his chin on the little boy's shoulder. "I really am sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just... I-I didn't want to see you get hurt."

As Morty calmed down again, he continued with soft fussing noises, still very clearly upset. Rick stood upright once more and returned the baby to where he had been over his shoulder, conceding to the fact that it was his fault. As he heard his grandson's complaints, his mind began processing what had just happened; he knew that it certainly wasn't going to be the last time this would occur because he was an angry, bitter man by nature and prone to exploding into wild fits of rage at the drop of a pin. That was just the kind of person he was and who he had always been. People either accepted it or avoided him entirely, which he was perfectly fine with. Morty, however, was far too young to have any kind of buffer to deal with it. Rick made a mental note to keep his anger in check in the presence of his grandson while he was still this small; he did not want it happening again.

Rick firmly held onto the youngster in one hand as he resumed going through the boxes in the garage with the other, wanting to get his mind off it entirely. Now that he thought about it, it annoyed him that none of these boxes had labels on them. He pulled one down from the highest level of shelving, disappointed to discover that it was just full of trinkets from Jerry's boy scouting days.

"Dumb." Rick let the box crash onto the floor. When he heard several items break, he was sure to kick it for good measure, making sure to break whatever was left intact inside. It made him feel a little better.

Morty was finally quiet again. He turned his head towards the floor after hearing the smashing noises, wanting to observe what the strange person was doing with it all.

Rick was glad to see Morty's calm state of mind return. He pulled out another unmarked box, letting that one crash to the floor as well. He had to laugh to himself as he heard more things break inside; he had always gained a strange sense of satisfaction in destroying things.

"Serves you right for not labeling your shit." He muttered aloud to nobody in particular. He stepped back, his eyes scanning the shelves once again. Then his gaze locked onto the only box on the lowest shelf that had a label written on it - 'baby stuff.' He felt a little bit silly with how obvious it was.

"At least I found it. Fuck yeah!" Rick called out happily as he dragged the box out across the floor. He crouched down beside it and set Morty down next to him, immediately using both hands to tear off the lid. "Hey, check this out with me, little buddy. What do you think is in here?"

Morty didn't answer. He was already turning away and looking at the lawnmower in the corner of the garage; it was huge and he wanted to play with it. He took a step towards it, wide-eyed and curious.

"I said no." Rick grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him back. "We're not doing that again so soon. Seriously, kiddo, Grandpa says no. And that's a bigger 'no' than when your mom says it, because I outrank her. Why don't you look at this stuff instead?" He tipped the box onto its side, spilling out half the contents, disappointed to discover that it was mostly old baby clothes and that nearly all of them were pink; they had obviously belonged to Summer.

"Well, fuck that." He stepped over the pile and moved away to pull more boxes out from the lowest shelf. Now that he was standing upright, he took the opportunity to take another swig from his hip flask; it was nearly empty. He would have to buy more when they were out.

Morty took the opportunity to get stuck into the box right away. He clumsily fell onto the pile of clothes and began distributing the remaining contents across the floor; doing this was entirely familiar to him because he did it all the time with his toys. At the very bottom of the box was the baby harness that Rick had been looking for the whole time. He was ignorant to this, however; it was just something to pull on and throw.

Rick had been watching the youngster from the side. When he saw the harness hit the ground, he turned back towards his grandson, seeming pleased. "You little turd." He wasted no time reaching over to pick it up, wanting to check it over and make sure that it was still safe for use. Once satisfied with his inspection, he took off his lab coat and dumped it at his feet so he could put his arms in the straps, clicking the buckles securely around his waist. "Well, it's functional..." He had to admit. Though, he quickly decided that he thought it looked stupid.

Meanwhile, Morty's attention had turned to the crumpled lab coat and he clumsily walked over, having decided he wanted to play with that, too. He grabbed up a huge chunk of the cloth in his little hands and all kinds of things began to scatter out of the inner pockets in the sudden movement; first a screwdriver, then Rick's hip flask, then some loose change. His cellphone hit the floor shortly afterwards. Several small electrical components bounced across the floor and one of his crystallized electrodes made a loud smashing noise when it hit the ground.

Rick sighed at the sound, torn between stopping him right away and letting him do his thing. While he didn't want to stop the youngster's fun, he didn't want more of his stuff getting broken either. "Does my coat really entertain you that much, little buddy?" He idly scratched the side of his head. "Phh... you're too easy to impress, even if you are a baby."

Morty made nonsensical happy sounds as he continued to shake the coat fabric, enjoying the fact that what he was doing was making all sorts of interesting noises. He shook the coat again and giggled when Rick's portal gun fell out of the top pocket and clattered across the floor.

When the scientist saw the device hit the floor, his ability to tolerate the situation had deteriorated entirely. "OK, that's enough." Rick stepped in to stand over Morty, his arms folded across his chest as he gave him a stern look of disapproval. Of all the things he owned, that was the one thing he wouldn't be able to forgive if it got broken. "Stop."

Morty looked up at him, blinking. He recognized the word and did as he was told. He whimpered a little, not liking the fact that this strange man was getting angry with him again.

As much as the older man didn't want to escalate the situation further, he had to let his grandson know that it wasn't cool with him. "A-are you done?" He reached down to pick Morty up, promptly placing him into the harness so that he was facing outwards. He secured him in with the straps and pulled on them to make sure they were secure. "Look, I know it was fun and that you're learning about cause and effect, but..." He motioned to the mess on the ground near his coat. "Don't do it at the expense of my science stuff, i-it's important to my work. You gotta know when to stop." His attention was back on the floor again, and although he was annoyed about the fact that his electrode was now nothing more than little pink shards, he was thankful that nothing more had been broken.

Morty wiggled in the harness, a little upset that he couldn't go anywhere. He made a soft grunting noise in protest as he flailed his limbs, whacking his grandfather in the chest in the process. No aggression was meant in the gesture at all; he just wanted to move.

Rick retrieved his lab coat and put it back on, ignoring the fact that he was being beaten up by a baby. He crouched down on the floor and began picking up the loose items to place back in their respective pockets. Once he had the portal gun in his hands, he stood up again and checked it over to make sure it hadn't been damaged. When he realized it was perfectly fine, he was calm again.

"Look, buddy, I know this is hard for you to understand because your mom probably hasn't set any boundaries or limitations with you yet, but," Rick held the portal gun out in front of him so his grandson could get a better look at it. "This is my quantum multidimensional portal device, or 'portal gun' to you. I do a lot of great stuff with this thing and I need you to remember not to touch it. In fact, l-let's just make that rule number three right now – don't touch the portal gun. If we were listing these rules in order of importance, this one would be at the top. Got it?"

Morty stared at the strange gadget but made no attempt to grab it. He began wiggling, frustrated; he was getting bored.

"Remember, kiddo," Rick spoke again, wanting to make sure it was going to stick. "No touchy Grandpa's portal gun. Ever." He slipped the device into the back pocket of his pants, not wanting to make it accessible to the kid in any way.

Morty's reply was louder frustrated noises this time; he was becoming angry. He was bored, he couldn't move, and he was getting sick of standing there. To make matters worse, he was starting to get hungry.

"OK, OK, I get it," Rick shook his head. "Let's go out already, sheesh."

* * *

It was cold outside because winter was due next month, but the sun was out, the sky was clear, and the air temperature was warm enough for a nice walk. As he strolled along the sidewalk at a brisk pace, Rick had his hands stuffed in his pockets, a baby strapped into a harness at his chest, and an oversized bag hauled over his back. He was positively certain that he looked utterly ridiculous, but Morty was content so he really didn't care what other people might think.

Talking to him was another thing entirely, however; he simply wouldn't tolerate that. People were already looking at him as he passed by and he hated it. Some of them had sappy looks on their dumb faces, and even Rick couldn't deny that the sight of an attractive looking guy like himself carrying around a young child was probably appealing to somebody. He still didn't want to talk, though; strangers often had some kind of compulsion to start conversations with people whenever they saw them with a baby.

His pace quickened as he saw a woman with two children of her own stop to open her mouth, looking at him. He didn't even regard her and he kept going. "Nope."

He shot death glares at more people as they passed by and it was an effective strategy, because nobody else talked him as he made his way to the liquor store.

"Quick detour, buddy, I'm running low and need to stock up." Rick told the little kid as he pushed the door open, stepping inside. He wasted no time disappearing down the aisle he needed to go, quickly grabbing up two bottles of the good, expensive stuff. He paid for them at the front counter and once he was outside again, he hastily crouched down in the gutter to cram his new purchases into the cloth bag. He was genuinely surprised at the fact that there was still somehow room in there amongst all the other clutter.

Morty was slipping into a bad mood. He was frustrated that he wasn't getting the older man's attention and he hadn't liked the smell of the liquor store. He made loud grumpy noises and waved his arms up, trying to hit Rick in the face.

"Yeah yeah, I know. D-don't rush me, kid, I'm going as fast as I can." Rick kept his head out of the way as he hauled the bag back onto his back, standing up once again. "We're going already. Quit the tough guy act, you're really trying my patience right now..." He muttered under his breath. "Freakin' lunatic piece of shit." He knew he was grumpy and needed another drink.

As Rick headed down the road and into the park, Morty's mood picked up considerably. He could hear and see other children screaming and running around the playground equipment and he wanted to be over with them. He also saw a sandpit, but the play equipment was far more interesting at the moment. He made a loud defiant noise up at his grandfather and gestured towards the playground, pointing at it.

"Yeah, I know," Rick grunted at him. "That's why we're here, kiddo." He took out his hip flask and took a swig, keeping it in his right hand. "Th-that, and... Vitamin D. Sunlight and all that nature bullshi-UURRRPt."

Morty giggled at the loud burping noise; he had definitely forgotten what he had been complaining about before.

Rick sat down after finding a pleasant shady spot under a tree. "OK buddy, here's rule number four - stay where I can see you." He set the bag down beside him and began to undo the baby harness straps with his left hand. "You gotta listen to me on this one, kiddo, i-it's important. It might not seem like it, but it is. If you get too far away, I can't guarantee your safety if something goes wrong."

Morty wasn't listening. He pointed to the playground equipment again.

Rick set him down in the grass and leaned back against the tree, taking another swig from the flask. "Fine, kiddo, off you go. Ju-URRRRRPPst remember that you should listen when Grandpa says something, because it's r-really good advice. Don't come back crying if you hurt yourself, you'll get no sympathy from me." The last part was a lie, but at least it sounded authoritative.

Morty immediately took five quick clumsy steps towards the playground, tripping over on the sixth, falling flat on his face in the grass. It didn't seem to faze him at all and he pushed himself onto his feet and ran again, falling over a second time.

As Rick observed the young boy, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow; it was painfully apparent that Morty was terrible at running. He was still trying to get it down properly, but at least he kept trying. When he saw the youngster fall over the third time, he rose to his feet and moved over to scoop him up, holding him under his left arm like a beer keg.

"Yeah, OK. You proved your point, I know you wanna go over there. G-good job, buddy." He carried him the rest of the way as a means of making amends for how sour he'd been earlier. Once he had placed the kid back down on the ground again, he stepped back to observe what would happen.

Morty looked at the playground equipment first, then at the sandpit. He pushed himself onto his feet and headed for the sandpit. It was something new that he'd never seen before and he wanted to find out more about it.

"Make up your damn mind..." Rick muttered aloud. "Just don't throw any of that stuff around because it hurts when it gets in your eyes." He paused, quickly adding, "and if you see any other kids throwing it around, kick their ass. Again, this is coming from Grandpa," he motioned to himself, "so it's really good advice."

Morty sat down on his butt, wasting no time to mash his fingers into the sand. It felt nice in his hands and he began making it into little piles.

Rick figured he would probably be occupied for a while, so he sat down on the edge of the sandpit to supervise. However, his mind began wandering as it always did and he began wondering why kids would find sand so interesting; it was just a byproduct of erosion. Even diatomaceous earth would be more interesting, if he cared about mineralogy. But he didn't. At all.

"Remember, little buddy, the playground is for everyone." Rick said suddenly. "So don't let any of the other kids push you around. Just because you're little, it doesn't mean you should put up with it. Kick the other kids' asses if you have to."

A nearby parent was glaring hard at him now, having overheard the conversation. However, Rick couldn't have cared less. He took another swig from his open hip flask and shrugged back at her. "Don't judge me, I'm a single parent and struggling with a mortgage." It was a bold-faced lie, but she didn't need to know that. If it would make her back off, he was willing to say anything.

The lady didn't seem to care about his story as she angrily talked down to him. "You are the rudest person I have ever met. Your child is going to grow up to be horrible with that kind of parenting!"

"Oh screw you, don't be a judgmental bitch." Rick stayed down, though he made the effort to glare back at her. "What the hell do you know about parenting? I bet your kid walks into walls on purpose. You're probably a moron, too, everyone on this damn planet is. You wanna know something? Your life is a lie, and everything's going to die eventually. Hopefully you do sooner, rather than later." He took another sip from the flask. "If you died right now, I wouldn't have to listen to your bullshit anymore. T-that would be grea-UURRPPt."

"Oh my god, get out of here before I call the cops!"

"Try it, bitch." Rick snapped back at her, then downed the remaining contents of his hip flask. "S-see how well that goes for yo-UURRRPPu. Unless I get violent, which I'm not going to do, they usually take hours to come. We'll be gone long before then." He was surprisingly calm considering the circumstances.

Morty was digging his hands through the sand, not seeming to care that his grandfather was arguing with somebody. He was used to people doing that in his household and unless somebody was directly yelling at him, he was relatively immune to the sound. After spending another moment sifting through the sand, he found something squishy and picked it up, discovering that it was a piece of candy; some other kid must have dropped it earlier. He popped it straight into his mouth.

"Wow, great father you are," the lady was suddenly condescending. "Your kid just ate something."

"Huh?" Rick turned around, his eyes widening as he saw Morty chewing on something. "You little piece of shit! What is that? Spit it out!" By the time he grabbed Morty and tried prying his mouth open, the youngster had already swallowed it.

"Damn it!" Rick stashed his empty hip flask back in his coat pocket and picked Morty up, carrying him all the way back to the tree they had been sitting under earlier. "Goddamn it, kiddo, why did you have to do that?" He sat on the grass and dropped the little boy down next to the bag he had left there.

His mind was racing; his first concern was that Morty had swallowed something toxic. He leaned over the little boy and forced his mouth open with two fingers. He vaguely considered sticking them further back to make Morty throw up, but figured that would be too rash of an action in the immediate; he wanted to make it as quick and hassle-free as possible.

Despite Morty's sudden loud protests, Rick persisted. He made sure his fingers were nice and slobbery before withdrawing them again. "You fucking little turd! D-don't ever do this to me again, OK?" He rubbed the saliva between his index finger and thumb and raised his hand to his nose so he could sniff, trying to discern what it was. When he discovered that the saliva was tacking and sticky as it dried and that the lingering scent was unmistakably sweet in nature, he calmed down a little. He reasoned that it was probably just sugar, which would have made sense; children didn't normally eat something if it tasted bad. He wiped the slobber off onto the lapels of his lab coat and exhaled sharply, releasing some of his frustration.

Morty backed away from his grandfather and made loud grumbling noises in protest of the invasion. To his credit, he didn't cry about it - yet. He just really didn't like what had happened.

Rick buried his head in his hands for a moment; he needed to calm himself down properly. "Don't ever do that to me again." He raised his head again, giving the young kid an intense glare of disapproval. "You have food already, why do you have to put everything in your mouth? Don't eat stuff you find lying around! Thank god it wasn't a poisonous bug or a cat turd. Do you want toxoplasmosis, Morty? Do you?!"

Morty's reply was a loud whining noise and knew he was in trouble.

Rick knew what was coming next; he rolled his eyes and picked the youngster up, setting him in his lap so he could pat his back in an attempt to soothe him. "Look, it's not that bad, you're not going to die. Sorry to violate you like that, buddy. Just... s-stop scaring the shit out of me, OK?"

The two sat there, quiet. Rick needed time to calm down again and Morty did, too. They sat in the silence of each other for a while and Rick turned his attention to the kids playing nearby, just idly patting his grandson's back. Soon enough, Morty began to fall asleep on him. Rick allowed him that, figuring having some downtime to rest after everything that had happened would do him some good. The scientist put his head back and closed his eyes, figuring that now would be a good time to take a nap himself.

He didn't know whether it was the screaming children playing nearby or the low humming noise that caused his mind to stir again.

He would have sat bolt upright if not for the sleeping child in his lap. As Rick raised an eyebrow and listened attentively, he was able to discern that the faint humming noise was coming from somewhere very high overhead. As it got louder and lower, his eyes narrowed; was he going crazy? Was that really what he thought it was?

"No... it can't be..." He picked Morty up, almost holding onto him too roughly in his worry. He stepped out from under the tree, his attention glued to the sky. He hoped to see a plane, a helicopter, anything that he could confirm was just normal air traffic noise.

When he saw nothing, it didn't reassure him. He simply couldn't put it out of his mind again; he had heard that same sound many years ago when he had lived another life entirely, and bad memories always came with it. It was a completely unmistakable sound, and one that he would never forget in a million years.

When it got louder, his heart began to pound in his ears. It was most definitely the sound of plasma fuel engines; something from another part of the galaxy had entered the atmosphere. Even worse, he couldn't do anything about it in the immediate because his ship was back at the house.

In the next couple of moments, Rick's worst fears were confirmed; the shapes of five Galactic Federation transportation ships were very clearly visible in the sky, most recognizable by their bug-green color and the two elongated, toothy prongs which pointed to the front of each vehicle; they couldn't have been mistaken for anything else. They descended sharply, now only a few hundred feet overhead. He saw four more rocket past, their engines humming at a high pitch as they flew off elsewhere.

"Fuck..." Now he had already seen nine of them, and he still didn't have his ship.

Rick wasn't going to stand there any longer. His heart was still hammering as he placed Morty into the baby harness at his chest, pulling the straps closed and secure around the little boy. To his credit, Morty still wasn't awake. Rick hauled the cloth bag over his back and broke into a sprint, running back towards the house as fast as he could.

"What the fuck are they doing here? How did they find Earth?! HOW?!" He had a million questions and his mind was racing now, but he didn't have time to stop and think about it. He fumbled through his lab coat pockets, quickly finding his cell phone. His hands were shaking as he dialed Beth's number, but somehow he still managed the feat. As he could hear the phone ringing, it felt like it was taking forever. There was a click sound, and then Beth picked up.

"Hey Dad, what's up?" She was too happy, which meant that the woman literally had no idea what was going on.

"Beth, sweetie," Rick said hurriedly, trying to sound as calm as possible, though he knew he was utterly failing at it, especially as his voice began to break in panic. "Where are you right now?"

"Dad, I'm still at work." Her reply was still far too happy initially, but then there was a suspicious pause. "What's going on?" She had picked up on his tone and it immediately reflected in her response.

"Where's Summer, Beth? Where's Summer?!" Rick tried to keep himself calm, but his voice had already betrayed him. He panted and kept running.

"Dad, what's going on...?"

"Get out of there, Beth! Get Summer, and get back to the hou-" Rick replied quickly, having to cut himself off as he began to cough.

"Dad, are you OK? What's going on?!"

"Just... j-just fucking get out of there as quickly as you can! Drop your shit and run. Do you hear me?! Dr-drop your shit and run, Beth! There's no time to explain, just get back to the fucking house!"

He hung up on her and kept running. He needed to get back to his ship as quickly as possible, or else everything would be utterly, royally screwed.


	3. Riggity Riggity Wrecked

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy, created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.

 **NOTE:** Fourth proofread, and now beta'ed! Thank you so much to Unlvcrjchick for taking the time to work hard on these! Please be advised that this chapter contains some major GET REKT'D.

* * *

 **Chapter 3 – Riggity Riggity Wrecked**

He kept running as fast as his body would let him, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. A normal man would have been exhausted by now, but Rick Sanchez was a man who was used to running from things; he had been doing so for more than half his life. He knew that he was running on adrenaline and sheer determination by now but didn't care; his sole purpose was to get back to the house.

The situation overhead was degrading minute by minute; the nine Galactic Federation ships he had seen earlier had turned into twenty and soon more than forty; he lost count after that point. He heard bolts of plasma fire sailing overhead, but they weren't shooting at him, at least, not yet. The surrounding area had practically turned into a war zone and he heard the destruction of buildings and houses on the other blocks nearby. A lot of them were already on fire. It looked like they were busy leveling the city.

 _"Why are they doing that?"_ Rick pondered to himself as he continued to run. It wasn't making sense, but he didn't have any time to waste thinking about it. He promptly turned down a familiar street and knew he was getting close to the house. "What the fuck is your problem!?" He yelled up at the sky as if issuing a challenge to the ships overhead, holding both hands high above his head as he flashed his middle fingers at them. "It's me you want, you crazy-ass motherfuckers!"

He immediately regretted the outburst; another Galactic Federation ship sailed overhead, having seen him right away. The pilot of the ship recognized who the crazy human was and locked straight onto him. Rick's heart skipped a beat as he heard the loud whirring of the ship's plasma guns heating up and had to duck as the first beams sailed directly over his head. They had been so close, he felt the rush of hot air that dissipated in their wake.

"Holy shit, no! NO! They're gonna kill us! Holy crap, I'm so screwed!" Rick yelled as he kept running, turning up the street to the Smith's house. The ship was still very much shooting at him and he began weaving as he ran, desperately trying to get out of the way. Five more shots landed near his feet, where he had just been.

Meanwhile, Morty didn't know what was going on at all. He was howling his head off, absolutely terrified; all he wanted was for everything to stop. Rick didn't berate him for that, though; he was just a baby and didn't have an off switch to his emotions. However, as long as he still had him strapped to his chest, there would be no way of hiding; he was sure that the little boy would only keep screaming. There was no other option, because there was no way in hell he was going let him go. Perhaps that was too sentimental, but he just didn't have it in him to abandon his own blood.

Rick knew he was leading the Federation ship straight towards the house, but that was actually his objective right now. There was a small sense of relief when he saw his flying vehicle; it was still intact and parked in the driveway. He ran straight up to it and turned his body away, using himself as a shield so none of the glass shards would hit the youngster still at his chest. He struck his elbow hard at the driver's door window, smashing straight through it. Glass scattered everywhere at his feet.

Morty was still wailing his lungs out in his panic.

"Shut up, kiddo... I-I can't deal with your shit right now..." Rick muttered aloud as he reached in through the broken window to unlock the car. After retrieving a large ray gun from under the driver's seat, he began shooting back at the ship, using the car body as cover.

He ducked as another barrage of plasma fire came at him, cringing a little as one of the shots ripped straight through the engine of his car. The internal battery under the hood started to shake as it became unstable and then it began to rip itself apart. It promptly exploded, sending a cloud of blue fire and ash all over the driveway.

Rick gritted his teeth and punched his fist into the side of the car in pure frustration; he'd just lost a viable means of escaping. His only backup was the portal gun now, and he wasn't going to use that until the rest of his family was with him. He reached back to check if it was still in his rear pants pocket, relieved that it still was.

"Fuck! Eat shit and die, motherfucker!" He stood up, aiming the ray gun straight at the cockpit of the Galactic Federation ship. He unleashed a torrent of plasma fire at it, only to have to duck as it spiraled out of control overhead, smashing into a neighbor's house across the street. The ship promptly exploded in a plume of brilliant purple flames, setting the house on fire as well as the one next door.

Rick cocked his gun and scanned the sky to make sure there wasn't another ship nearby; there almost always was. However, the airspace above was quiet for the time being, which was odd considering how crazy everything was in comparison to his current location. He heard sounds of distant gunfire and was morbidly amused that people were fighting back.

"They have no fucking clue what they're getting into..." He growled at their stupidity, but had no time to dwell on it; there were more urgent matters on his mind. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Beth's number again. To his surprise, she picked up almost right away.

"Dad, what the hell is happening?!" Beth screamed at him from the other end of the line. "Everything's blowing up!"

"The world's going to shit, sweetie," Rick scowled in his reply. "Hurry the fuck up and get your ass over here, I can only hold these shitheads down for so long!" As his eyes scanned the sky, he knew it was about to get much worse. When the Galactic Federation was involved, things always did.

"Do you have Morty with you?!" Beth's voice was a panicked frenzy. "Oh god, what about Jerry?!"

"Of course I have Morty with me, can't you hear him?!" Rick snapped back at the receiver. "And if Jerry can get his ass over here in time, fine... b-but don't waste time waiting for him, got that? Guy can't hold down a job, imagine how useless he'd be with a gun." He picked off a stray Gromflomite that was flying nearby and found it strange that it hadn't been driving a ship. As soon as it fell out of the sky, he heard more gunfire. He didn't care; there was only one pressing question still on his mind. "Do you have Summer with you?"

"Yes, Dad! We're in the car and trying to drive back to the house now, but everybody's gone crazy!"

"Break all the road rules if you have to, they don't even apply anymore!" Rick's reply was firm. He stepped around to the back of the car to open up the trunk. It was loaded to the brim with guns, ammo and all manner of contraptions stolen recently from other planets, and he was thankful for the fact that he was such a hoarder. "Drive like your life depends on it, because right now, it actually does. That's not even a metaphor, I-I'm pretty serious about that." He paused momentarily. "J-just fucking get here already, I'm kinda still waiting for you over here!" He hung up the phone again, leaving Beth to concentrate on her driving.

Morty had been screaming throughout the entire conversation. His throat hurt, but he still managed to make loud, frightened noises.

"Morty, you need to calm down, buddy... you're gonna draw more attention to us." He did his best to speak to the kid in a calm grounding voice, but that was difficult when he was anything but calm himself. "Everything will be fine, g-got that?" Rick set his gun aside and reached down to pat the baby boy on the head. It was a total lie and he knew it; things would probably never be OK again, and he had no idea what to do other than to escape via a portal. It was his only option and he utterly hated it.

He didn't even have a backup plan.

There was a sudden deafening rumble of engines overhead, everywhere, all around at once. The light of day began to fade as the sun was eclipsed by a giant spaceship; it was one of the Galactic Federation Capital Motherships, and easily big enough to contain a population of several Earth cities. Rick had only ever seen one other in his lifetime and knew its mere presence meant something very, very bad. There was only one reason a ship of that size would be here; they were going to reduce the planet to dust. That was the only thing it could be. Gromflomites didn't waste time either; he guessed he probably had five or ten minutes, tops.

"Well... shit..." Rick's eyes widened as he observed it; it took up the entire sky as it just hung there, looming overhead. He didn't know how they had found Earth, but he knew that he must have made them really angry to travel out this far.

Rick had to mentally kick himself to refocus on what he had been doing, though he knew it was already too late to do anything but focus on the escape. He began discarding the less useful things from his lab coat pockets and replacing them with guns. It was at that moment he spied a tiny ray gun in amongst the others in the trunk; it couldn't have been more than about five inches in length. He grabbed it up, knowing just what to do with it.

"Hey buddy, you wanna help?" He held it out for the little boy to take from him. "Just aim it at somebody you don't like and pull the trigger. Simple." He knew it was positively crazy to arm a baby with a gun, but he was out of other options. He just hoped the kid didn't accidentally shoot him.

Morty was still crying, but the fact that his grandfather was talking to him made him quieten down a bit. When he was offered the tiny ray gun, he grabbed at it, still making upset noises; he didn't understand.

Rick wasted no time grabbing one of the boy's tiny hands and positioned it over the handle. He held his hand over Morty's as he guided the gun towards the fence, aiming at it. "Just like this. Pretend this is one of the bureaucrat's heads." As he squeezed the trigger, the gun immediately fired a red beam of light and blew a giant hole in the fence. "See? Do that every time you see a bad guy. Try to aim for their eyes, i-it makes them stop right away."

Morty was still very much frightened, but held onto the gun anyway.

"Good. Keep it, it's yours." Rick resumed firing at ships overhead, picking them off like flies. When his ray gun ran out of charge, he threw it across the lawn and pulled another from the trunk of the car, soon exhausting the battery in that one, too.

"Hurry the fuck up, Beth! Where are you?!" He bellowed in a rage. She was taking far too long and all he could do was wait in the open, absolutely hating being so vulnerable and exposed. As he kept shooting, he began to realize that there was no point picking off the ships any longer. Now that the Capital Mothership had arrived, they were swarming the sky like locusts.

There was nothing he could do.

Rick sank to the ground in the realization that the situation had become hopeless. His back thumped against the side of his car; it hurt but he didn't care. He decided to keep the remaining guns as backup and to pick off things that were directly shooting at him. "I really hope your mom gets here soon, kid..." He mumbled, lowering his head. "I don't know how much longer we can wait this one out..." His voice was breaking up, but he kept himself together.

He didn't have time to dwell on it. The biggest weapon on the Capital Mothership overhead had began humming into life and his entire body shivered; he'd only heard that sound once before in his lifetime. He knew what was coming next.

The entire underside of the Mothership lit up as it began charging its most powerful weapon. The drawing power was so intense, it was altering the planet's gravitational pull. Rick watched the smaller rocks and debris around him start to rise off the ground, and despite the fact he knew everything was going to be leveled to nothing shortly, the sheer power of the weapon above still managed to impress him somehow.

After another moment had passed, the hull of the Mothership was completely wide open, and the light coming from the underside was glowing bright enough to light up the sky like a sun.

However, it most certainly wasn't a sun.

"We have to bail, kid..." Rick's voice was breaking up as he spoke, and he had resolved his mind to defeat. He noticed Morty was no longer holding the tiny ray gun and he wasn't surprised, he hadn't even see where it had went. "They... they're going to vitrify everything... everyone on the planet is about to die because of me. I did something really bad to them, kiddo... well not just something, it was-"

He stood up suddenly as he heard the sound of screeching tires and plasma fire, only to witness Beth's car peeling around the corner as it smashed through rising rocks and debris, a Federation ship in hot pursuit on her tail. Rick immediately took aim at the ship and yelled out with pure unbridled rage as he dumped the entire remaining charge of his ray gun straight into the hull. The Federation ship spiraled out of control, clipping the car in the front tire as it crashed into the road ahead. The car was already traveling too fast to brake in time and the two vehicles collided and caught on fire.

"NO!"

Rick's mind was screaming at him to move, but all he could do was stand there, paralyzed with shock. He was so preoccupied with the scene that he didn't notice that the ground was glowing. It was white hot and everything began to burn. He felt searing radiation heat as he got some of his senses together and threw the ray gun over his shoulders, no longer needing it. He ran out onto the street and began trying to pull the door of the car open, but it just wouldn't budge. Beth and Summer were still trapped inside; they were still alive but unconscious.

"Wake the fuck up! Get out of there... fuck, g-get out of there! This place is going to be flattened in about a minute!" He pounded his fists on the window in panic, but they just wouldn't break. He could smell his own hair burning in the heat, but he had become desperate and crazy by now, all logical thought and reasoning were gone. All his brain could focus on was slamming the window repeatedly until it finally shattered. Broken glass flew everywhere, some of it cutting his face. He didn't care.

The ground was getting whiter and hotter, and he had completely run out of time. Rick lowered his head, pulled the portal gun out of his back pocket and pressed in the coordinates to the only place he knew he would still be safe. As he fired it behind him, he felt a part of himself breaking inside; he really didn't want to do this. Luminous bright green, watery light swirled into life, forming a portal behind him. However, the glow was paltry compared to the display overhead.

Rick made one final effort to get the car door open, but there was a deafening explosive sound above; the Capital Mothership had just unleashed its charge and the vitrification pulse fire rained down onto the planet below. He was knocked backwards off his feet by the first gravity-induced shockwave, and both the Galactic Federation ship and car were ripped apart, debris flying everywhere. Rick curled himself up in an effort to minimize being hit with flying shrapnel, also shielding the young boy still strapped to his chest. There was a second gravitational shockwave only a second later, and before he could do anything else, he was knocked backwards through his own portal. It swallowed up its owner and disintegrated as if it had never been there in the first place.

As the vitrification pulse fire beam rained down from above, the energy spread outwards across the world in a ripple of pure destruction; the surface of the planet lit up with white hellfire. In another moment, the entire surface was burning away until it was just powder and glass.

Planet Earth was no more.

* * *

Rick was aggressively tossed out the other side of the portal and large chunks of debris came flying through with him. He remained in a tight, curled-up position as his back bore the worst of the brunt; many of the shards struck him and ripped straight through his clothes, embedding into his flesh. It stung like hell, but he didn't care. He hit the ground hard and only allowed himself to relax again when he felt the cold ground on his face.

Morty had resumed his pitiful crying scream, completely ignorant of the fact that he had just survived the entire ordeal without a scratch.

Rick simply lay there and dumbly stared ahead, the sound of the beam still ringing through his head. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and the baby crying at his chest, but neither was registering in his mind. He simply lay there in an attempt to regain his senses, though he was painfully aware of the fact that his body was starting to go into shock.

All he could think about was his portal gun, and he reached over to retrieve it from where it had fallen, wanting to know how it had fared throughout the ordeal. The case had several cracks in it and some of the connections inside probably needed resoldering, but it was otherwise repairable. At least the glass bulb was still intact, and he was relieved that it was still intact enough to be capable of functioning.

It was at this point that he realized he still had the stupid cloth bag that Beth had given him at the beginning of the day. It was ripped, but somehow it had also survived; how was that even possible? He had forgotten that he had been carrying it the entire time.

Before he could focus on anything else, he heard a loud flapping sound somewhere overhead. A large, graceful creature, half man, half bird, landed in front of the new arrivals. He had been attracted over by the loud crying noise and wanted to know what the source was, and the only reason he had been so close was because Rick had set the portal coordinates to appear at the base of his tree house.

"Rick," he spoke, his voice completely monotone. "We meet again."

Rick put his head back down on the ground; it was taking all his effort not to pass out. "Birdperson..." He stuffed the portal gun into his back pocket once again, making a mental note to fix it later.

"You appear to be injured and in shock. Your hatchling is also making loud noises and will attract predators. I will take you to my tree house to prevent this." He simply reached down to pick Rick up in his arms, also picking up the strange bag he had brought along with him. The smaller willowy human didn't seem to be any effort for him to carry as he spread his wings and flew into the air.

In two casual flaps of his wings, he was back on the landing of his tree house. He carried Rick inside and gently set him down on the couch.

"Rick," Birdperson spoke once again, his tone very flat, "when you are ready, I wish for you to talk as it may be advantageous to know exactly what transpired before you arrived here on Bird World. Although I am used to your random drop-ins when you are escaping the demons that pursue you to the ends of the universe, this particular arrival seems... more unusual than the others." He dropped the bag on the ground next to Rick's feet.

"Unusual...?" Rick's voice was weak and he hated how he sounded right now. He forced himself to sit up, wanting to appear as fine as he possibly could; he hated showing weakness.

"You should stay down and rest." Birdperson suggested. "We will talk about it later. You have had a long and arduous misadventure."

"Yeah, well," Rick shrugged, grumbling, "i-it hasn't been a good day..." It was a positively asinine response and a complete understatement, but it was all he could think of to say in the moment. Everything was still so fresh in his mind, it had just happened and he still couldn't believe it. He forced himself to stand and took two paces away from the couch, suddenly feeling unwell. He wanted to throw up, but couldn't. The only thing that was keeping him awake was his own power of will. Now that he was finally safe, the adrenaline rush had worn off and now cold shock was setting in; it was all beginning to catch up with him.

"Rick?" Birdperson called his name again, his voice emotionless.

Rick said nothing. His mind was racing and he had no idea what to do with himself now. He idly scratched at his face, his thumb rubbing up against the cut on his cheek. He was only vaguely aware of it and still didn't care. All of a sudden he was suddenly dizzy and he began to shake involuntarily. A thousand pins and needles ran through his body, hot and cold all at once.

"Rick?" Birdperson said yet again, however, he stayed where he was. "Perhaps you should sit back down."

Rick's vision had begun fading and he was beginning to lose his balance; he knew what was coming next. He simply raised his chin, tilting his head back, opting to fall backwards instead of forwards so his falling dead weight wouldn't crush the little boy who was still nestled in the harness on his chest. Somehow through it all, he was still safe; Morty and himself were the only people left alive from his home planet.

The universe really did have a sick, twisted sense of humor.

Rick went down with a hard solid thud; he heard the sound of his own body hitting the wooden floor, yet felt nothing. As he continued fading, he heard glass and circuitry crunching dully in the fabric lining of his back pocket, and in that moment, he knew that he'd just utterly and completely destroyed what was left of his portal gun.

"F... f-fuck..." He hissed bitterly, finally succumbing to unconsciousness.

Birdperson picked him up and returned him to the couch. Morty was puzzling to him, though; he recognized the child from the photographs he kept on his wall, but he had no idea why he was here as Rick usually traveled alone.

He fumbled with the baby harness and freed the young boy from it. As he picked him up off Rick's chest, the bird-person immediately decided that he didn't know what to do with such a tiny human. It had begun making loud noises again and he found the sound unpleasant on the ears. However, he knew somebody who knew children better than he did and he stepped out the door to deal with the issue, figuring that Rick would wake up again in his own time.

He always did.

* * *

When Rick finally stirred awake again, he had absolutely no idea how much time had passed, but he was stiff and sore all over. He opened his eyes and immediately made note of three observations; there was no longer a baby harness around him, it was awfully quiet and dark outside, and he was back on the couch in Birdperson's living room, lying on his side. Shards of glass and shrapnel were still embedded in his back, but he really couldn't have given a shit about any of that right now.

Where the hell was Morty?

He forced himself to sit up, only to immediately regret it as he felt the dizzying rush of postural hypotension straight to his head. He recoiled in discomfort, deciding to stay down until it passed again.

"Take it slowly." Birdperson instructed him. He had been waiting patiently for his friend to wake up again and had prepared a cup of broth waiting to go. "Drink this. It will help." He moved his hand down, offering it to the other.

Rick narrowed his eyes but snatched the cup up anyway. He sat up just enough to take a small sip, immediately gagging at the taste. "Ugh... w-what the fuck is this?" He raised his head and looked around the room. "Where the hell is my grandson? What time is it?"

"That drink contains a herbal essence that we grow here on Bird World. It will help you feel better." Birdperson answered simply. "As for your hatchling, he is safely roosting in my neighbor's tree house. Her name is 'Gresharak'." The name pronunciation sounded like more of a bird-call than an actual word. "She has three offspring of her own and is a very knowledgeable mother. She will know exactly what to do. As for the time, it is well past midnight. But as you well know, time is often irrelevant."

Rick made another attempt at sitting up; this time he was successful. He took a second sip of the warm, horrible tasting broth and forced it down; if Birdperson said it would work, then he was willing to trust that. He set the cup aside on the coffee table afterwards and hunched over, staring at the floor.

He honestly had no idea what to do. He had a ridiculous amount of information to process and needed time to get his thoughts in order. His mind was still in shock, which wasn't helping. His portal gun was broken, his planet was gone, and now he was solely responsible for a tiny boy who had only survived at all because he had been too sentimental to leave him to die.

None of it sat well with him; the old feeling of being responsible for another life scared the hell out of him, just like it had the first time. He didn't know how to be a parent either; he had palmed the responsibility onto his ex-wife and ran from it. The only reason he had showed up for his grandkids at all was because he had been trying to make up for the years of being absent from his daughter's life. He felt a sharp pang of guilt and pushed it out of his mind as soon as it had come; it didn't even matter now.

"Rick," Birdperson said, his voice calm, "I would like to know what happened this time. You never bring your hatchling with you. You are typically somebody who travels alone. I think something must have gone wrong."

"You think...?" Rick's voice was cool and dripping with sarcasm.

Birdperson ignored him. "Yes. It is unusual. Would you like to know what is also unusual? Arriving on my planet with debris embedded in your flesh and passing out onto my living room floor."

"Yeah, well," Rick shrugged quickly, "I don't care... f-forget it." He paused for a moment, quickly adding, "Morty's not a hatchling, Birdperson. We don't hatch from eggs, we're mammals." He resumed staring at the floor, his mind still racing. He wished he could shut it up.

Birdperson noticed Rick was distracted; obviously still in shock or thinking about his next move. Perhaps both. The bird man sat down next to the other, picked up the cup, and handed it back to him, wanting him to drink all of it.

"So," Birdperson stated calmly, "I wish for you to tell me what happened as you are obviously not OK."

Rick tipped his head back and downed the rest of the contents of the cup, placing it back onto the coffee table afterwards. "I-i fu-UURRRPPcking fell onto my portal gun."

"That's it?"

Of all the things that had happened today, that had to be the worst insult of them all. Rick felt powerless and vulnerable without his portal gun and he hated it. He buried his head in his hands, clutching at his hair in great clumps.

"I-I fucking destroyed my own fucking portal gun, Birdperson... how the hell could I do that?!" He was yelling at himself now. He pulled at the tufts of hair he had in his hands, hurting himself in the process. "O-of course I'm not OK!" He looked back up at Birdperson, his eyes wild and furious. "There are shards of glass embedded in my asscrack, for fuck's sake! My portal gun is now just debris... do you have any idea how intricate that design was? Do you?! Well now it's as good as garbage!"

"Rick, it may be best for you to keep calm." Birdperson stood up. "I will get you a medic."

"I don't need a medic..." Rick growled back at him, sounding very much like a defiant child.

"Yes, you do." Birdperson's reply was ever so slightly authoritative.

Rick was taken aback; he had never seen Birdperson sound like that before. "Fine..." He conceded, quickly scowling as he lay back down on his belly. "J-just make it quick. I have so much shit to work through right now..."

As he watched Birdperson walk off, he suddenly remembered the bag on the floor and reached out to grab it so he could open it and observe the damage. Despite the fact that the outside of it was ripped up, nothing inside was too badly out of shape. A container of baby powder had exploded, which was no big deal, and two or three jars of baby-food were now mush and glass shards at the bottom, though he couldn't tell how many had broken. However, both bottles of whiskey had survived quite happily; he had the foresight to store them amongst the disposable diapers and thus they had essentially been cushioned throughout the entire ordeal.

He wasted no time grabbing one of the whiskey bottles so he could pull the cork off. He took a long swig from the bottle and relished the way it burned all the way down. He hadn't bothered to sit up this time, so some of the liquid spilled down his chin and onto the cushions near his head. Although he wanted to down the entire bottle, he recorked it and set it down on the ground, realizing that he might need to ration it; he'd likely be stranded here on Bird World for a while.

At least the cushion smelled pretty good.

Birdperson was back again. A slightly taller male bird-person whose plumage was much lighter than his own had followed him back inside. The other bird-person stood over the smaller human as he assessed what to do, then began to work.

Rick had to bite his tongue to keep himself from crying out throughout most of the procedure. Bird World didn't have anesthetic, so he had to lie there and put up with raw, almost blinding pain through everything the other did to him. The removal of debris from his flesh was bad, and he would have protested when the shredded clothing was ripped off his back, but he was in far too much pain to do anything about it. The antiseptic used to clean his wounds burned like wildfire and made him feel utterly sick to his stomach. He buried his face in the cushion and didn't want to be alive anymore by the time the suturing started to happen. Still, he was mostly silent the entire way through; there was no way in hell he was going to show weakness.

After it was all done, the medic covered up the wounds with gauze matting, sticking everything down with tape made from tree sap residue. Without saying a word, he slipped out of Birdperson's house again.

"Rick?" Birdperson said to him. "Perhaps you should retire to the spare nest room. You are going to need to rest up for a few days before you resume your next plan of attack."

"I don't want to rest... have too much to do." Rick's tone was defiant. Even though he was at the lowest point in his life thus far, he was still stubborn enough to want to argue. "I don't even know where to start... I have nothing. Really, I don't even have clothes, Birdperson. That crazy-ass medic made a point of ripping them up. All that I had with me was either in my pockets, or in that stupid bag on the ground."

"Rick," Birdperson said simply, "you do not have nothing. Do you remember when you were here for an extended period of time, running guns for the resistance movement? You amassed a great deal of things during your time here on Bird World. After your departure, I left them be. They are still in the spare nest room."

"What..?" Rick raised his head, his eyes widening, not being able to hide his confusion. "Why didn't you throw that shit out? God... h-how long has it been sitting there?"

"Years," Birdperson replied, "I did not throw anything away because it was not mine to throw away."

Rick stumbled to his feet, still dizzy as he pulled the remaining shreds of clothing off himself. "I-I gotta see it..." He didn't care how horrid he felt or the fact that he was completely naked. All he wanted to know was what was accessible to him. He stumbled down the hallway, heading straight for the spare nest room.

Birdperson followed, knowing full well that the human was still weak and needed supervision.

Rick flicked the light on as he stepped into the room. The first thing he noticed was that several weapon blueprints were tacked to one of the walls and he immediately felt embarrassed over how amateur they were compared to what he could design now; he would have to rip them all down as soon as he got the chance. The temporary roll-away cot he had brought with him many years ago was still out and exactly how he'd left it. But more importantly, there was a pile of clothes on top of the cot. He wasted no time grabbing up some pants and a shirt, hastily getting dressed again. He was glad for the fact that he hadn't changed shape much over the years; he had always been on the skinny side. While the shirt smelled musty, at least it was better than being naked.

The next observation he made was the stack of boxes piled up in the corner, all taped up and collected from times when he had been a much younger and foolish man. A thick layer of dust was coated over all of them, and each one had handwritten labels on the front that either said 'fuck off', 'don't touch my stuff', or 'keep out'. One of them had a giant penis drawn on the front; that was definitely his doing.

"Why didn't you throw this stuff away, BP?" Rick asked again. He was more than grateful for the fact that some of his stuff still existed, as remnants of his old life were familiar and comforting. He was eager to go through the boxes and work out what he could use, but just couldn't shake the fact that he was confused; he simply couldn't work out Birdperson's motivations. If it were him, he would have thrown it all away and never looked back.

"Again, Rick, they were not my things to throw away. Why are you repeating yourself? Is it because you are fatigued?" Birdperson raised an eyebrow. "I suggest you lie down. I fear this repetition may soon become annoying or perceived as nagging. Please listen to me."

"I-I'm fine." Rick's reply came out faster than he wanted it to, but he was agitated. "I just want my kid back, and I want to get to work... I need a new portal gun."

"Your... 'kid' will be resting comfortably with Gresharak until you are well enough to proceed with your work."

"No-no no!" Rick snapped back at him. "Give him back to me, Birdperson! I don't care what time it is, h-he's been scared out of his mind. What he needs right now is familiarity, otherwise you're gonna screw him up worse than he probably already is!"

Birdperson was silent; he did not want to do that.

Rick sighed at him. "F-fine... I'll cut you a deal. Give my grandson back to me and I'll do whatever you want." He twisted the edge of his mouth into an uncomfortable expression, wondering how far the other would take it.

"Agreed." Birdperson nodded once. "To answer your question further about why I have not thrown these things away. When somebody saves your entire species you tend to look upon them favorably."

"O-oh for fuck's sake..." Rick scowled. "Stop giving me so much credit for that."

"I kept your possessions exactly as you left them in case you needed to come back to them one day, and it would seem that day has arrived." Birdperson motioned a hand towards the cot. "Lie down. I shall return with your hatchling and then we shall talk, because that is what you have just agreed to do." He disappeared out the door.

Rick narrowed his eyes as he watched the other go. He didn't like what he was hearing, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk. He grabbed up a pillow and a blanket out from under the cot and threw them on top of it. He stepped across the room to turn off the light, then slumped face down onto the cot, feeling it sink a little underneath his weight, surprised at how comfortable it felt even after all this time. He wanted to lie on his back but couldn't; it was going to hurt for a couple of days at the very least.

"Fuck..." He grumbled as he pulled the covers over himself. He was exhausted both mentally and physically, but his mind just wouldn't shut up. He wished he had the sense to bring a whiskey bottle into the room so he could numb it with alcohol, but he was too tired to be bothered getting back up now.

When he heard the pitiful weak cries come in with Birdperson through the front door, he moved onto his side and propped himself up on his elbows; just from the sound he knew that his grandson was utterly exhausted.

Birdperson stepped back into the room and handed the whimpering child back over to Rick. "As promised." He pulled up a chair and sat down, furling his wings around himself like a cape.

Rick wasted no time moving his arms around the little boy, enveloping him in a hug. "H-hey, buddy. Stop making that noise, huh?" When Morty clung onto him and buried his face in his shirt, Rick felt terrible for him; the poor kid had gone through more hell today than he could ever comprehend, and there was nothing he could do to make it better. It was his fault that he had been through it in the first place and it was his fault he was even still alive at all.

"Rick," Birdperson said simply, "I know you do not want to get into this because you have been resisting me every step of the way, but it is important. It may be important for the continued future of Bird World, and perhaps for the fate of more worlds to come. What was it that brought you here?"

Rick let out a heavy sigh and put his forehead down onto the pillow; it seemed that his friend was going to launch into it straight away. He had been afraid of that. "Galactic Federation bullshit..." He admitted after a moment.

"Of course. I am not surprised that they would come after you," Birdperson replied, his voice calm and steady, "but there is more to this than what you are saying. Please continue."

"Fuck..." Rick hissed. "Fine. I don't really know how to explain it. I was just minding my own damn business, like I always do... I thought they were gone, done with. What I did to them? That... t-that was a long time ago."

"Intelligent lifeforms hold grudges, Rick. Those can last forever." Birdperson explained, his voice still calm. "It seems almost fitting that they would do the same to you as you did to them. This behavior is commonly called an act of revenge."

"I fucking know what revenge is, Birdperson!" Rick gritted his teeth, feeling his anger rising. He did not want to talk about this anymore, but a deal was a deal. "I don't know how the hell they found me. My flying vehicle wasn't bugged either, I check that shit all the time." He was quiet as he thought about it; how did they find him? Maybe he would never know. "They came in hard and fast, classic swarming strategy... I should have seen it coming, b-but... but by the time I was armed and ready to shoot back at them, there was nothing I could do. I-It all went to shit..." His voice broke up a little when he spoke, and he became silent again, mentally cuffing himself.

"Is there any chance of returning?" Birdperson asked. "Perhaps you can regather some resistance. Your planet is obscure and far out of the way, but there are many in the galaxy who would be willing to fight on your behalf."

"Don't you get it, Birdperson?! There's nothing TO go back to!" Rick raised his voice in anger. When Morty flinched in his arms, he thought better of it and sank back down on the cot. "Th-they... they fucking burned everything... vitrified. It's all gone..." He buried his face in his hands, his chest heaving; it was taking every ounce of his will to not break down.

Birdperson was silent now; it was obvious that Rick was clearly unable to handle any more. He could see that the other needed time to grieve and to process his way through the reality of the situation he was now stuck in. He could not offer any words of sympathy or solace for he had never experienced anything like it before, so he simply rose to his feet and headed out the door. Rick was always trying to save face, Birdperson would give him that. He closed the door behind himself out of respect.

Once he heard the door close, Rick's power of will crumbled and he broke down into a fit of harsh sobbing. Even in his grief, he was still angry at himself for even making such horrible sounds; everything he had ever known of his home world was gone. He didn't care so much about that though, as Earth was shit compared to some of the places he had been already. No, he was grieving over the fact that his family, the one he had invested his time in, was gone, and there was nothing he could ever do to bring them back. He was utterly breaking apart inside. He knew that there were versions of them in other realities, but that didn't matter; variances, even small ones, meant that they wouldn't be his.

He would never be able to replace them.

Part of him wanted to put a bullet between his eyes right there and then, but the only reason he wasn't going to do that was because he was needed. And, as annoying as it all was, he knew that was his fault, too.


	4. New Rickality

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy, created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. Please support the official content.

 **NOTE:** This chapter content settles down a bit after the previous two. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 4 – New Rickality**

 **Date Unknown, 7:15am Local Time, 2001  
** **Birdperson's Tree House  
** **Bird World, Dimension Unknown**

* * *

The sun was coming up outside the window. Morty was already wide awake, having been roused from slumber by discomfort and hunger. He made a soft whimper to get Rick's attention and grabbed onto his shirt with both tiny hands, pulling on it. Nothing happened. He sat back for a moment and began to think of other strategies he could use in order to get his grandfather to wake up.

Meanwhile, Rick was still completely out of it and made soft snoring sounds as he slept. It was the first real rest he had gotten since everything had happened, and the only reason he had managed to fall asleep at all was because he had been utterly exhausted. That, and he had cried himself to sleep last night, though he would never admit that to anyone. When his assailant began to tug on his shirt, it didn't register. Then he felt the first whack to the face and his mind began to stir.

There was another whack to his face soon after that, but it was little and could easily be ignored. There was soon another and another, those ones harder this time, and he ignored those too. It was all relatively easy to put up with because it didn't hurt; it was only mildly annoying.

He heard cranky whining somewhere next to his left ear. He ignored that and tried to go back to sleep. It didn't work, though, because Morty had already woken him up enough to be aware of his surroundings. With that same awareness came his active mind and he was once again barraged with the full volley of thoughts that had swarmed his consciousness the night before. He would let them come this time, though, as he needed to work his way through all the noise and devise some kind of plan. There was no way in hell he could just stay here on Bird World with Morty indefinitely; the baby deserved some kind of long term care plan and a decent future. Rick needed to give it to him; he owed it to him after everything that had happened.

Meanwhile, the tiny whacking hands resumed their assault.

"St-stop..." Rick furrowed his brows in protest, turning his head away. Even though he was awake enough to be aware of everything around him, he still didn't want to get up because he was quite comfortable. He rolled away from his grandson and lay on his belly, burying his face in his pillow.

"Go back to sleep, buddy... it's too early for your shit." His response was muffled and he knew that Morty wasn't going to talk back or even understand most of what he had just said, but it still felt right talking to him and explaining the situation.

Morty was getting fed up. His strategy wasn't working: the big lump next to him wasn't doing what he wanted and his discomforts still hadn't been taken care of. He placed both hands on his grandfather's back, using it to steady his balance as he shakily hauled himself up onto his feet. He resumed his attack, striking the older man with open-palmed hands. He was cranky, he was wet, and he wanted to be fed; all of these factors added up to louder and more upset demands.

Rick just lay there despite the fact he knew it was only going to escalate further. Morty kept hitting him and he didn't mind about that too much, at least until the youngster had struck the heel of his hand straight onto one of his many stitched-up shrapnel injuries.

"Ghhh!" He gritted his teeth and flinched hard at that one, hot tears of pain pricking at the edges of his eyes. His entire back was still very raw and tender and he decided that enough was enough. Rick positioned his arms in such a way that he could prop himself up and rested for a moment on his elbows, needing a moment to let the pain subside.

"Kid... just stop. I'm damaged goods, you know." He shot the youngster a particularly disapproving glare. "I know you don't understand, b-but... be nice to Grandpa for a few days, huh? It hurts."

Morty obviously knew he had just done something wrong and leaned heavily onto his grandfather's shoulder, making short upset sounds that almost sounded like he was talking to him.

Rick raised his eyebrows in response; was he actually apologizing right now?

He sighed as he sat up properly, scooping the youngster up to place in his lap. "It's OK, little buddy, I-I know you didn't mean it." Rick's tone was mildly annoyed, but still gentle and soft as he spoke. He wasn't going to fault Morty for hurting him this time, as the little boy didn't know he was injured and likely didn't even know his own strength. However, it had still stung like a bitch.

"Come on, we need to get up anyway. I don't know what kind of food Birdperson has lying around, but both of us need to eat something..." He went quiet as he considered the fact that he couldn't climb down the tree house in his current state, and it meant they would be reliant on Birdperson's charity until he could make other arrangements. Although he knew his friend would more than tolerate the both of them, it still wasn't something he wanted to do.

As he watched Morty use his shirt to pull himself up again, he realized that the little boy was staring at him expectantly. He lowered his head and sighed; regardless of how he felt about scrounging from another, his grandson was depending on him to take care of his every need.

It was going to take some getting used to.

"Yeah, I know. You're probably hungry. You also smell like piss." He scooped Morty up in his arms and finally got out of bed. After another moment, he set the youngster down onto the floor and stood up to stretch out his limbs.

"Stay here for a mo-" Rick didn't finish his sentence; his own body decided to cut it short with a loud yawn. "S-stay here for a moment. I'll go into the main room and get your bag. Hopefully some of your food still survived, huh?" He twisted his mouth into an uncomfortable expression; he didn't know how much food was still accessible to them and it was really bothering him. He needed to go through that bag as soon as possible, as there were a couple of other questions he needed to answer right now.

Morty protested to being put down on the floor. He had wanted to be up high and as close as possible to the only familiar person he knew anymore. He wasn't willing to explore the room, nor was he interested in anything else. All he wanted right now was comfort and the closeness of his grandfather.

Rick dismissed the noise, figuring that Morty was just being himself: a grumbly little boy who had only just woken up. "Settle down, kiddo. I'll be back in a minute," he told him as he stepped out the doorway. However, the moment he turned into the hallway and was out of sight, Morty's whining exploded into a terrified wail.

Rick stopped in his tracks right there and then, immediately peering his head back around the doorway to look at the other, wide-eyed and a little baffled. "Oh god... what's wrong with you now?" He briskly moved back in to walk the distance across the room to the young boy, picking him up right away in the effort to make him stop crying again. There had been absolutely no warning with that one - not a crescendo of whimpering or any kind of lead up whatsoever.

Morty practically glued himself to Rick's chest and buried his face into his shirt. He threw his arms around the older man as far as he could reach, his tiny hands clinging onto him for dear life as he continued his loud, terrified crying.

This was new behavior; Rick had never seen it before. He pondered it for a moment, only to have his heart sink into his stomach when he realized what was probably going on. "Oh god... you're... this really screwed you up, didn't it? You're not going to let me out of your sight, a-are you?"

As he continued to hug the young boy, his sounds began to decrease in volume once more. Rick felt a sharp stab of guilt in his chest; his grandson wasn't even two years old yet, and he had been traumatized to the point of developing an abandonment issue overnight. Yet another thing he didn't know how to deal with and worse, it was all his fault.

"C-come on... let's get you sorted out." Rick tried to put it out of his mind again as he carried Morty out to the living room.

Once he was seated on the couch, he set Morty down beside him so he could get stuck into the cloth bag right away. However, he found himself distracted when he discovered that the remains of his portal gun and all of his electrical components were all laid out neatly on top of the table for him; Birdperson must have retrieved it all from his shredded clothing and left it there for him during the night.

Morty scooted over to lean heavily into his grandfather's side; he didn't want to be anywhere else right now.

Rick sighed as he reached over to pat Morty on the head. "I'm sorry you got tied up in my shit, little buddy... we'll fix it somehow..." He took all the disposable diapers out of the bag to scatter them across the spare space on the table. He tossed the damaged ones aside, counting the ones that were still good to work with.

Twenty six.

Not exactly what he wanted, though he was vaguely impressed it had been so well stocked for a bag that was only meant to be used for going out for a single day. He would have preferred that more of the items had survived, but he wasn't about to argue; it was what it was and he would have to work with it. As he began arranging the diapers into piles, his mind began to reason through how much time it would buy him; Morty typically went through an average of six to eight diapers a day, which meant he had just over three days to come up with a new portal gun before he could get more of them. Depending on what was in the boxes in the spare nest room, he could probably whip up something if he dedicated most of his time to it.

Upon taking inventory of the rest of the bag, Rick discovered that he only had two sets of clothing for Morty, a packet of baby wipes, three plastic bottles, some teething rings, and several sachets of powdered formula that were still intact. Some of the sachets had exploded in the bottom, but none of the food in glass jars had survived at all; the bottom of the bag was a complete discolored mess. After dumping the rest of the useful items out onto the coffee table, he threw the bag behind him and buried his face in his hands.

"Shit..." He hissed to himself; it meant that he would have to forage for food after all, or rely on Birdperson, which he really didn't want to do.

As Rick raised his head again, he began scanning the house, his mind racing for alternative solutions. His eyes quickly fell on the cupboards in Birdperson's kitchen and he had to raise an eyebrow at the thought that came next; birdpeople were mostly insectivores and grain eaters, but they were known to occasionally eat fruit if they could get it. Birdperson's kitchen would probably have something edible, even if it was only very basic.

Morty was trying to get his grandfather's attention again; his needs still hadn't been met and he resumed the chorus of pathetic whining noises he had been making before.

Rick looked down at him and sighed. "Yeah, I know. Sorry to make you wait, but... Grandpa's trying to work through some shit right now." He placed the supplies he needed on the edge of the coffee table and rolled his sleeves up out of the way. After sliding off the couch, he took the little boy up in his arms so he could lay him out on the floor before him and get to work.

Morty made a small noise of protest initially, but it seemed like Rick was going to hang close by. Simply watching his grandfather's face brought him a sense of calm.

Rick pulled Morty's pants off and set them aside, then found himself staring down at the odd bundle of cloth wrapped around the kid's legs. It only took him a moment to realize what it was; birdpeople always had their own way of doing things, and this was no exception. Birdperson's neighbor must have done it when Morty had been in her care yesterday. As Rick began trying to work out how it went together, just knowing about it at all was pretty helpful; it would buy him more time if he ran out of the supplies on the coffee table.

Rick fumbled with the cloth as he tried to work out how to get it off. It was intricately spiraled around Morty's legs and underside, ending at his lower torso in a weird shape; the whole thing almost looked like a thick heavy bandage. After finding the end, he began to unravel it, being careful not to go too quickly so he could work out how it went together. If he had to learn how to do it in the future, he would, but that wasn't important right now.

After pulling the weird piece of soggy fabric off entirely, he set it aside; he would probably just toss it out later, as it was wet and wasn't something he wanted to hand back. He reached a hand back towards the coffee table to grab up a fresh diaper and the pack of baby wipes.

Without warning, Morty began peeing everywhere.

Rick saw it coming and immediately scooted backwards out of the line of fire, grabbing up the piece of cloth he had just set aside to cover the little boy up with and to contain it. "Rule one, rule one!" He scowled as he held it there for a moment while he waited for the other to finish, then began using the same piece of cloth to clean up the mess, thankful for the fact that Birdperson's tree house had wooden floors instead of carpet.

"Ugh, gross..." Rick couldn't hide his disgust. "How about some kind of warning before you do that next time?" He knew there was absolutely no point in complaining; the kid wasn't old enough to have developed the ability to control his bodily functions just yet. It was a mild inconvenience at best but still annoying.

He wasted no time taping the new diaper on, and then placed a new set of clothes on the youngster, his mood still very clearly sour as he finished the chore. "You're lucky you didn't piss on me. Don't do that again!" He propped Morty back up on his feet and stood up, heading straight for the kitchen sink.

Morty watched his grandfather walking away and didn't like it one bit. He started yelling as he promptly ran after him.

Rick was already standing at the sink when he felt the soft bump at his left leg. A sense of hopelessness came over him; the little boy really was serious about not letting him out of his sight. He had no idea what to do about it.

"C-come on... I'm not going anywhere, you don't have to keep making that noise." Rick grumbled as he finished washing off his hands, wiping them off on his lab coat afterwards. He reached down to pick Morty up again, setting him over his shoulder. "We have to eat something... I feel like my stomach is going to digest itself if we wait it out much longer."

With Morty secure and quiet again, Rick began rummaging through the cupboards. He found jars of preserved red and purple worms floating in a rubbery-like substance and immediately moved on, disgusted by their appearance. He found a jar of dried leaves and pushed it to the back, not even remotely interested. Next, he found a hard sugary brick of something milky brown, almost like coffee. He pulled it out and gave it an experimental lick; it tasted like maple syrup candy and had similar flavor notes to a charred oak whiskey-barrel. It was the first useful thing he'd found, and at the very least, he could ask Birdperson what it was so he could make booze out of it.

He set it on the counter and kept looking.

Rick hadn't been quiet at all; the noise he made while moving containers and banging cupboard doors attracted the attention of Birdperson, who had been asleep in the master nest room of the tree house. In another moment, the feathery male had made his way out into the kitchen and stood in the doorway.

"Rick," Birdperson's voice was the same old monotone tenor he normally spoke in, however this time it was etched with tiredness, "I heard you moving around and wanted to know if everything was all right. I admit that I am glad to see you on your feet and busy. However, what you are doing concerns me," he paused, adding, "what are you doing to my kitchen?"

"I'm looking for food, Birdperson, isn't it obvious?" Rick's reply was a little sharp. He didn't even stop to look back even for a moment; hunger was driving him to continue searching. "We're starving, a-and I can't climb down the tree and forage." He pulled a white glass container off the top shelf and set it down on the counter to open up and sniff, immediately recoiling at the moldy stench inside. "Yeugh..." He put the lid back on and returned it to the cupboard.

"I have preserved nightcrawlers if you want those," Birdperson told him simply, "I probably have some dried beetles as well."

"No, Birdperson. No worms, a-and definitely no insects." Rick grumbled. "We're not insectivores. Don't you have any grain I can make into oatmeal or something? Seeds? Nuts? Fruit? Anything?" He poked Morty in the shoulder. "Got any input to this, little buddy?"

Morty didn't reply; he was too busy staring at the strange feathered man nearby, almost mesmerized by the patterns in his plumage.

Birdperson was quiet as he pondered the question. His attention soon drifted to Morty, and he regarded the young boy's gaze before turning back towards Rick. "I know somebody who makes what you might call 'bread'."

"That's a start." Rick replied as he pulled out a white ceramic container, popping the lid off. He gave it an experimental sniff and put it on the counter next to the brick of sugar. "Anything else?"

"I would not eat that if I were you," Birdperson began to explain, his voice calm. "That particular container is filled with dried berries of the siopp tree. We use them for crushing into a fine powder to treat feather-rot. We also turn them into a medicine for hatchlings to rid them of intestinal parasites. If you were to eat those berries in their unprepared state, they would probably make you very sick. Such a large dose may also render you impotent."

Rick's eyes were wide as he stared back at the other. Without saying another word, he very carefully placed the cap back on and returned the container to the cupboard, hastily brushing his hand on his lab coat afterwards.

Morty's mood was beginning to deteriorate again. He held onto to the fabric of Rick's lab coat in one hand, using the other to whack him, loudly grumbling at him.

"Fruit will probably sustain you for a few hours, but it is hard to come by in this season, and is often considered to be a treat here on Bird World. If you were to eat grain, it would keep your stomach full all day." Birdperson continued. "If that is what you want, then I will fly out and speak to the flock to see what they can do for you. This may take some time, however. All I can offer you until my return is my preserved nightcrawler stash and some beetles."

"Y-yeah yeah... no." Rick sighed as he deemed his search unsuccessful and closed the cupboards back up. "Look, I would take care of myself under normal circumstances, but," he shrugged. "Whatever. Who cares about me, the kid needs feeding now. Look at him, he's trying to beat me up about it." He couldn't help but smirk at Morty's antics as he shifted him off his shoulder, holding him at arm's length. "You're so mean, little buddy. Stop."

Morty's mood hadn't improved at all and he flailed both arms out, trying to grab at whatever he could reach.

Birdperson made a soft whistle in sudden realization. "I know something that will be suitable for both yourself and your hatchling. However, the preparation will take some time." He unfurled his wings, relaxing them at his sides. "Is this acceptable?"

"Y-yeah, however long it takes." Rick nodded once, he had little other choice but to agree right now. "Oh, before I forget... I need sterilized hot water. I'm going to need, uh," he went silent as he did the quick calculation in his head, "about four to six pints a day." It was probably an overestimation, but he wasn't about to chance any kind of risk.

Birdperson stood there, his expression remaining stoic. He was confused, but he knew better than to question it because he knew Rick would have had his reasons for asking. He simply moved to the far side of the kitchen and opened up the door of his water boiler and loaded the under compartment with lumps of coal and wood. After setting it to start burning, he closed it up again.

"This device is more commonly used for bathing. The main pipe is connected directly to my bathroom. However, this water would be safe to drink if you were to run the boiler for three to five minutes after it has reached its maximum temperature." Birdperson paused for a moment, quickly adding, "there is a small spigot on the side of the tank. You will find it rather easily."

"Thanks, BP." Rick sighed, feeling a little weight off his shoulders. Finally, some progress; while only a start and definitely small, at least it was something.

Rick watched Birdperson disappear out the front door and retreated to the couch while he waited for the water to heat up. He sat Morty down next to him and leaned over him, curious. He had a little bit of time to kill and decided that he might as well keep the young boy entertained. He hoped that if he spent lots of time with him, the kid might actually start feeling a little more secure and confident again. Rick wanted to see the curious little boy he had known before all this mess had started, one who was adventurous and keen to explore his environment. All he could see right now was a cowering, miserable mess and a crushed spirit; it didn't feel good to witness.

Though, it might take him a long time to get over; Rick simply didn't know. It had been a horrible experience for anyone to go through, let alone a small child. Staying nearby Morty and spending time with him was still worth a shot, though. He enjoyed spending time anyway, despite the fact he would never admit how ridiculously attached he was. Helping Morty to get over his insecurities would be totally worth the effort, however long it would take.

"Hey. Hey, little buddy," Rick lightly tapped the baby boy on the shoulder to get his attention. "Can you say 'Morty'?"

"Mmm..." Morty replied, his eyes attentively glued on Rick's face. "Mmmm."

"Eh, good start." Rick shrugged at him, grinning. "Hey, what about my name? Can you say 'Rick'?"

Morty frowned in concentration for a moment, then made a soft growling sound. "Rrrr."

"No, no, no. 'Rick'." He tapped his chest with an index finger as he pointed to himself, grinning further at the fact that the kid was so willing to get into it. "Rick. Rrr-ick. It's one syllable, i-it's not that hard. Come on, you can do it, kiddo. Talk to me."

"Rr-rrr-ri..." Morty stuttered slightly as he made the sound. He was quiet afterwards and shuffled over to grab at Rick's sleeve, pulling on it. He was still hungry. "Rrrih."

"Close enough." Rick sat up again, seeming pleased that Morty was so willing to talk back to him. "Heh, Beth doesn't know what she's talking about. Talk to you? What the hell? I talk to you all the time, and it's a pity you can't talk back to tell her tha..." Rick trailed off and went quiet again, suddenly hit by a sharp wave of guilt and regret.

He had gone straight into a rambling tirade without thinking about it, and now he regretted it because it really hurt; he would never see his daughter again to tell her anything. That heavy feeling in his chest had returned with a vengeance and he turned his head away as his breath came out in sharp heaves. He immediately began to fight himself, angry over the fact that it had hit him so suddenly and randomly. He didn't want to lose it so soon again and especially not in an open area like the living room. Needless to say, he wasn't hungry anymore.

Rick was so distracted trying to keep his emotions in check that he didn't hear the water boiler violently bubbling away in the kitchen.

Morty pulled on his grandfather's sleeve again, and loudly whimpering at him. He was getting so hungry that it was actually starting to hurt.

"H-hey..." It was enough to knock him out of his thoughts again. Rick sat up, turning his attention back towards the other; the sound his grandson kept making when he was hungry was very predictable in terms of pitch, and he could easily recognize it. "Y-yeah I know. We still have to fix your problem." He reached across the coffee table to pick up a sachet of formula and a bottle. "This will have to do until Birdperson gets back." He hesitated for a moment, then motioned towards the boiler with one hand. "I'm just going to be over there. Don't freak out." He made his way back out to the kitchen.

Morty wasted no time wiggling off the edge of the couch, thumping onto the floor below. Once he got to his feet, he ran across the room to follow his grandfather, grabbing onto his leg once again once he was in close enough proximity.

Rick sighed as he heard the loud wooden thud, and without even looking down, he already knew Morty was coming towards him. "At least you're not screaming about it this time..." He muttered as he prepared the powdered formula as per the instructions on the packaging, shaking the bottle up to distribute the powder through the hot water. When he felt the other grab him around the leg, he simply stood there and tolerated it, noting that Morty seemed to favor his left one for some reason.

He awkwardly hobbled across to the sink, Morty still clinging to his leg, and ran the bottle under cold water to cool it down. "You know, kiddo, this can't be a long term thing. We can't spend too much time fucking around." Once he was satisfied with how cool it was, he shook it up just to make sure, and then handed it down for Morty to take.

Morty greedily snatched the bottle with both hands and popped it straight into his mouth.

"Good. Hopefully that shuts you up for a while..." Rick muttered as he took the opportunity to get out of the way, stepping back into the living room. "Grandpa has too much shit to do. Y-you better not consume too much of my time today, we're basically running on a time limit here. We got three days before you run out of diapers. If we go over that, we gotta start getting more creative. And by that, I mean pulling it out of our asses... so, good advice, kiddo: leave Grandpa alone to work."

Now that the young boy was sorted out, at least for the time being, Rick was eager to focus on finally being able to work. He picked up the ray guns, components, and broken portal gun pieces up off the coffee table and shoved everything back into his lab coat pockets. He retrieved one of the whiskey bottles from the floor and then headed back into the spare nest room, Morty following close behind.

Once back in the room, Rick picked Morty up and set him back down onto the roll-away cot along with his bottle of formula. "Again, this is hard for you to understand, but try not to get in my face too much, little buddy. This is gonna sound cruel, but don't cry, I-I need you to be quiet. I've spent too much time on you already and I need to concentrate. Your damn crying will probably give Grandpa a headache." It was coming out very grumpy and a little harsh, but he was far too frustrated and anxious to hold back. He uncorked the whiskey bottle and took two large swigs, setting it down onto the work table afterwards. He hoped it would kick in quickly and make him feel better, because he badly needed something to calm himself down.

To his credit, Morty wasn't upset at all. He seemed to settle right away once being placed on the bed. Now that he was occupied, he lay back and simply watched his grandfather get to work.

Rick stepped away with a loud burp, his attention lingering on Morty for a moment. He actually felt bad about what he had just said, but had no time to dwell on it; he had a portal gun to make. The first thing he did was pull down the stacked boxes in the corner; he was sure he'd settle down again once he took a proper inventory of what was available to him.

He tore the lid off the first box and began placing things out across the work table. He found a screwdriver and an ionic soldering iron - essential basic items. He found several small crystal components along with some batteries which were fairly useful and wasted no time to place them onto the table as well. Over the next hour, he cleared out three more boxes and either placed the important items onto the table, or back into the boxes because they were either garbage or too old to bother with.

When he opened the fourth box, he was met with the welcome sight of his old electric guitar and amplifier. As much as he wanted to fire up his kit and belt out some riffs, he had more important things to do, so he abandoned them in the corner of the room.

What Rick found in the next boxes only got better. He found blank blueprint papers and drawing implements, etching equipment for circuit-board production, and several old prototype gun designs from his days in the resistance movement against the Galactic Federation. He found pots of sealed chemicals and casting equipment, firing mechanisms, gun batteries, as well as metalworking tools and box after box of screws. He also discovered that he had more electrical components than he knew what to do with. Rick had always hoarded useful things and although his ex-wife had perceived it to be a bad habit, he couldn't help but feel like it was his saving grace now.

The scientist finally stood back after everything was out on the work table, placing his hands on his hips as he admired the amount of clutter on his desk. He felt very satisfied; he was sure he could work out something with a lot of this stuff. It wasn't entirely optimal as some of the objects were quite old, but it would have to do.

Rick pulled up a chair and sat down at the desk, pulling out a blank sheet of blueprint paper to begin sketching. His first task was designing the circuit boards for the portal gun and now that he had to design the whole thing from scratch, he had much better ideas about how to go about it. His previous portal gun models had worked but were acceptable at best; they were completely subpar compared to what he was capable of accomplishing now. He wanted to build something much greater this time around, something that could track and record dimension coordinates, because he had always just previously punched them in from memory. In a strangely ironic way, he was actually kind of glad he had broken the old portal gun now; it was an obsolete design he had never bothered to upgrade because it had done what he needed it to.

Rick put his head down and buried his attention in the work ahead. Soon enough, he was entirely focused on what he was doing and the rest of the world was zoned out. He didn't feel the initial bump at his leg, nor the tap on his shoulder.

Birdperson was standing behind him. He had carried in a bowl of hot food in one hand and a small loaf of bread in the other. "Rick." He said simply.

Rick wasn't paying attention.

Morty was at his grandfather's feet again, having been attracted over by the smell. While the warm bottle of milk had filled the hole for a while, the wonderfully delicious smell that came in with the unfamiliar feathery person made him absolutely ravenous.

"Rick." Birdperson spoke again. His voice was quiet, for he did not want to startle him. "My neighbor has prepared you some food. It would do you well to stop what you are doing and take time out to care for yourself."

Rick jumped a little as he looked up. "Oh, hey, Birdperson. Didn't see you there." The smell of whatever Birdperson was carrying hit his senses and he suddenly realized how hungry he was. He set his drawing tools aside and turned around in the chair. "Oh yeah, that smells gooooood... what is it?"

Birdperson placed the wooden bowl onto the work table, being careful not to displace any of Rick's carefully laid out objects. "It is a soup consisting of root vegetables and grain. I do not know what humans eat, but when I gave Gresharak your food requirement list, she decided to cook this for you. She likes your hatchling and wants you to be well fed." He placed the small loaf of freshly baked crusty seeded bread down beside it.

Rick wasted no time picking up the wooden spoon out of the bowl to give the soup an experimental taste. He raised both eyebrows, seeming quite taken aback; it was actually pretty decent. "Holy shit, bring this woman over some time. I owe her for the shit she's been doing for me. Geez, she takes care of my kid and does this... why the hell haven't you snapped her up, BP?"

Birdperson's head feathers twitched slightly, yet his expression remained exactly the same. "She still has a soul bond with her spirit mate, Rick. He is currently out on migration, scouting Bird World for threats. If I were to move in on her while she was still bound to somebody, this would be considered a dick move."

"Bummer." Rick grunted. "Heh, women. Who needs 'em, right? Wubba lubba dub dub."

"Rick," Birdperson replied calmly, "please focus on what you are doing. You will have time to sort through your situation in good time." He turned away to walk out the door.

Rick leaned back in his chair, realizing that Birdperson had understood exactly what he had just said. He would have said something more about it, but his attention was diverted by the young boy who was now practically trying to climb him. "Uh, hey. How much of that food do you have left?"

"Enough to keep you going for a few days," Birdperson replied, "do you need more?"

"Y-yeah." Rick answered as he bent down to pick Morty up, placing him in his lap. Despite the fact he was starving, he began feeding the portion of the soup he had been given to Morty right away. "The kid is probably going to eat you out of house and home. Seriously, if there's anything I can do to pay this back, let me know. I can, uh... build you some shit."

Morty made hasty grabs at the spoon as he was fed, practically wolfing down everything he was offered without chewing. At one point he started coughing, but continued accepting whatever he was offered.

"Rick," Birdperson stood in the doorway, staring back at him now, "your quick thinking and innovative scientific designs almost single-handedly saved Bird World from total destruction at the hand of the Gromflomites. We are forever in your debt. Thus, you owe us nothing."

Rick simply flattened his brows, scowling. "Not this again..." When Morty coughed, he held the spoon back and waited for him to finish before offering more. "Hey, slow down, buddy; don't choke on that."

Birdperson disappeared out the door, leaving Rick to continue feeding his grandson. He didn't even need to do very much to modify the food for the young boy; the soup was pretty mushy already, but he still fed the other relatively slowly, not wanting to overfeed him because he still wasn't quite sure where Morty's limits were just yet.

When Morty didn't seem interested anymore, Rick took it as the cue to stop. He simply picked up the bowl and finished the rest off himself, no longer seeming to care that the spoon had baby slobber all over it. When Birdperson brought in the second bowl of soup, he finished that one off, too, as well as the bread; he had been absolutely starving.

Rick set both bowls aside and went back to work, feeling stupidly content with how full he felt right now. He took a quick sip from his whiskey bottle and worked on the circuit board sketch designs for a little while longer before taking Morty out for another diaper change. When he came back into the room, he set the youngster back down on his knee, letting him snuggle into his chest. He soon found himself in a balancing act: patting Morty's back with his left hand while he sketched up blueprints with his right.

Over the next couple of hours Morty fell asleep on him, so he shifted the little boy onto his lap properly. Now that he had both hands accessible, he resumed work without hindrance.

He was simultaneously in the mind of a scientist hard at work and a caring parent, the two sides in a state of precarious equilibrium. In that singular moment, he was fooled into thinking that the new reality he had found himself in might just work out after all.

He had no idea what was in store.


	5. An Unfortunate Rickuation

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy, created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.

 **NOTE + Warning:** Suicide is a subject in this chapter. Please be aware if you find such material distressing. Chapter has been tidied for grammar/repeats.

* * *

 _"It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything."_

 _\- Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club_

* * *

 **Chapter 5 – An Unfortunate Rickuation**

 **November 19th, 6:28am Local Time, 2001  
** **Birdperson's Tree House  
** **Bird World, Dimension Unknown**

* * *

Rick got up fairly early the next morning. A quick glance out the nearest window told him that the sun wasn't up yet, but time had never really mattered much to him. All he could think about was picking up where he had left off; his circuit-board designs were already near completion and it was driving him crazy. He left Morty to sleep on the roll-away cot and covered him up with the blanket, standing back for a moment to take in the picture of the peaceful, sleeping baby boy before him.

"Yeah, you win this time." He shook his head and smirked a little as he moved out the doorway. "Stay down, buddy... I'll be back soon. I promise."

Morty was still asleep; that was all that mattered. It meant that Rick could take time out for himself and he fully intended to take advantage of that. He spent ten minutes in the bathroom to sort out his most outstanding issues first, then stripped down to wash himself with a bucket of warm soapy water and a piece of cloth; he still wouldn't be able to have a proper shower until all the stitches came out of his back. Although it wasn't what he wanted, the alternative was worse.

Once he was dried off and dressed again, he brought Morty's baby supplies into the spare room and stuffed them into one of the empty boxes that had been left over from unpacking. Once satisfied with that, he kicked it under the work table so that it was out of the way but still accessible; he would need to use it later. After that, he retreated out of the room again to reheat a portion of vegetable soup on Birdperson's stove, finding it a little odd that birdpeople had perfectly civilized cooking and bathroom facilities, and even electricity, but not refrigeration.

"Oh well." Rick shrugged as he took the food back into the room. Once seated at the table, his attention was on the work before him and he began to ponder what to do next with the designing process.

Two sides of himself had been fighting with each other the whole time he had been drawing up the blueprints; he was torn between doing it quickly and doing it well. Rick had always been a perfectionist when it came to his own work and making a new portal gun for himself was no different. He knew he needed it soon but didn't want to do a bad job of it; rushing the art of design would just be poor craftsmanship.

He picked up the wooden bowl and shoveled rushed spoonfuls of soup into his mouth as he sat back to look over his design again, swallowing without chewing. While the circuit boards were finally designed to a point where he was finally satisfied with them, they still needed tweaking. He quickly finished off the soup and washed it down with a couple of swigs from his whiskey bottle, then leaned back over the desk to get back into it.

Over the next two hours, Rick was lost in what he was doing. However, as time ticked onward, he started to get a little concerned; Morty still hadn't woken up. He moved off the chair and stood over the cot, giving the little boy a gentle shake with two fingers.

Morty made a soft noise in protest and curled up, wanting to stay down.

Rick had to chuckle about that. "Oh, so it seems the tables have finally been turned around, little buddy. Y-you didn't think I could get my revenge, did you?" He lingered for a moment to pat Morty on the back, and as much as he wanted to bother the youngster into waking up, he knew that it would just be cruel. He sat back down in his chair to resume working, letting it go for a while longer. By the time he had finished sketching up the circuit-board designs entirely, Morty still wasn't awake.

Now it was just troubling him and he couldn't shake it.

"OK, kiddo. Time to wake up," the scientist's voice was authoritative this time, "I can't let this go on any further." He tossed his drawing implements aside and moved over the cot to pick Morty up; he would likely be hungry and would definitely need another diaper change. "H-hey, come on. Wake up, little buddy."

Morty's response was a weak whimper as he tried to curl up in Rick's arms. He was being really difficult to rouse, that was for sure.

Rick had to raise an eyebrow at the behavior; this one was new to him as well. He stood there to quietly watch the little boy, waiting for further body language cues that would give away any hints as to why he was behaving like this. Then he noted how red the young boy's cheeks were and his eyes widened at the observation. He promptly slipped a hand under Morty's shirt to feel his bare back, discovering that he was very warm to the touch.

"Oh fuck..." He felt his heart sinking in the realization of the situation. "Just fucking great. You better not be getting sick, you little turd!" Rick gritted his teeth and growled. "I don't want to deal with this right now... I-I want to finish making my goddamn portal gun!"

He carried Morty back to the table and set him in his lap as he sat back down on the chair. He began to rifle through the drawers of his desk as he looked for a temperature sensor that had previously been used for testing gun parts; its main purpose was to give readouts on heat output and to make sure nothing would explode during safe operation of the guns he made. However, he wouldn't be needing it for that anymore.

When he found the device in the second drawer of the desk, he wasted no time pulling it apart; it was about the size of an ordinary pen so it didn't take very long. In another couple of minutes he had his ionic soldering iron in hand and parts scattered across the top of his blueprints. He began to hastily modify the device, repurposing it entirely.

"Fucking hell... no, Morty. No! I... I can't deal with this shit... this is the last thing we need right now!" Rick was growling and although he knew that it sounded like he was very angry with the little boy, he didn't mean it at all. He wasn't going to fault him for being sick; he was just extremely frustrated with the situation. It was going to throw out his timing entirely.

When the temperature sensor's rewiring had been finished, he popped the probed-end back into the casing and clicked it all back together. He placed the probe of the device into his mouth to test that it worked, cringing a little at the taste; it was very metallic, and obviously not designed to test the temperature of living organisms. He checked the readout after the device had beeped, pleased to see that his temperature was normal, which meant that the modification was working as intended. He wasted no time wiping his slobber off the end and trying to get it into Morty's mouth.

Morty immediately protested and turned his head away. Despite the fact he was lethargic and wanted to keep on sleeping, he still tried to fight his grandfather every step of the way. He whimpered at the unpleasant taste and flailed both arms up to smack the device away, not at all liking what was happening to him.

"S-stop! It'll be over again before you know it, so shut up and let me do this to you." Rick growled at him, still very much frustrated. "Otherwise it's going straight up your ass. D-do you want to be violated like that, Morty? Do you? No, no you don't!"

After another few minutes of fighting with each other, Rick kept persisting until Morty finally conceded. The scientist simply held the temperature probe in the boy's mouth and anxiously waited for it to finish measuring. When it beeped, he held it up to get the readout – 101.4°F.

"Fucking... damn it. Damn it!" Rick was practically yelling as he threw the probe across the table again. He moved to his feet, carrying Morty with him as he stormed out of the room, his blood practically boiling over as his anger went from zero to eleven in two seconds. He concluded that there was only one way that his grandson could have gotten sick so soon and he fully intended to chase it up immediately.

"BIRDPERSON!" Rick bellowed out the name the moment he was in the living room. "Get your fucking ass out here, w-we need to talk!" His tone was authoritative and demanding. The loud noise made Morty flinch in his arms, but he didn't care; Birdperson needed to know he was angry.

Birdperson appeared in the doorway of his bedroom and then very calmly walked out into the living room to meet with the other. He was silent as he looked back at Rick, noticing he was positively livid. He was used to seeing Rick in this state and had never paid it much mind; the smaller human often had a temper like a pack of explosives. His attention drifted towards Morty and then back to Rick; he was staring back at him, wild-eyed and dangerous. The feathered male simply raised a singular eyebrow in silent query.

"Hey Birdperson, fuck YOU!" Rick yelled at him rather suddenly, fully intending to rip into him right off the bat. "Yy-y-you took my kid to your neighbor's house and now he has a fever because of it! Kids are disease vectors and mine has never been exposed to this environment before. Did that ever cross your fucking birdbrain mind? No?! Of COURSE your neighbor's kids would have made mine sick, BECAUSE THEY'RE BASICALLY DISEASE-RIDDEN CRAP FACTORIES WITH LEGS!"

"Rick-" Birdperson began.

Rick immediately cut him off; he wasn't having any of it. He stood tall on his feet, his chest puffed out as he continued letting the other have the full force of his bellowing rage. "Dii-d-did it ever occur to you to keep me informed about this stuff? Is there any seasonal thing going around? At what point did you go, 'hey, maybe I should tell my old buddy Rick about any kind of sickness bullshit currently going around my civilization'? No?! YOU DIDN'T THINK TO TELL ME ABOUT THAT?!" Spit was flying out of his mouth as he yelled, and Morty was crying all over again. Rick ignored him and continued his irrational assault. "What kind of fucking friend ARE you, Birdperson!? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!"

"Rick-" Birdperson said again, his feathers a little ruffled.

Rick cut him off a second time, not wanting him to get a word in and resumed his screaming tirade. "At what point do you fuck up so hard, Birdperson? I can't believe you would be so fucking careless, you stupid-ass birdbrain... this is basic intel you should be giving me right away! Do you have ANY idea HOW far this stupid BULLSHIT IS GOING TO PUT ME BACK!? FUCK YOU IN THE ASS, BIRDPERSON! THIS ONE IS ON YOU!" He panted slightly, otherwise quiet again, drool dripping down the side of his mouth like a rabid animal. In that moment, he may as well have been; he had completely lost it.

Birdperson simply stood there and let Rick abuse him with everything he had, knowing full well that just by standing there and being a verbal punching bag, it would help him let it all out and feel better again. When he finally had a moment of silence, he simply shook his head and began to talk.

"Rick. While the people of Bird World are capable of developing a fever, it is rare. None of our native planetary illnesses present with such sudden onset fever like this." He motioned across to Morty with a hand as he explained his thoughts, his voice still calm. "This is not familiar to me at all. The most common illnesses of hatchlings on Bird World include feather-molt, upper respiratory issues, intestinal parasites, and hives. I do not recognize this. Whatever this sickness is, it is native to your species."

Rick's eyes widened at Birdperson's commentary, knowing he was right; they must have brought it with them. He visibly sank in his posture again, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty about the outburst and harsh accusations he had just made of his friend. He was far too proud to apologize though, and simply stood there in the silence that followed. He quickly distracted himself with patting Morty's back, trying to soothe his cries.

"Rick," Birdperson began again, taking note of the other man's posture and expression, noting that his mind was working again; this was exactly what he wanted. "It would do you well to sit down and think your way through the problem. You have only been here for a day, perhaps two at most. Whatever Morty has, it is too short of a time period for it to have come from Bird World."

Rick's brows furrowed deep in thought. "Hmmm..."

"If this is going to get worse," Birdperson motioned a hand towards Morty again, "I will assist you in any way I can but can promise nothing. I will leave the boiler on as you will probably need sterilized hot water to brew medicine. If you do not know how to do this, I will show you."

Rick released a heavy sigh from the bottom of his lungs and lowered his head. That sharp feeling of guilt in his chest wasn't going away; he had wrongly accused his friend, he had screamed at him and completely lost the plot and yet, somehow through it all he was still trying to be helpful despite everything. "Birdperson, I-"

"Rick," It was Birdperson's opportunity to cut him off now. "Just leave. Go back to the spare nest room and work through your problem. I would rather not see you for a few hours." He wasn't actually angry, he was only saying it to get his friend's mind back on track. Sometimes the only way Birdperson could get Rick to calm down was to dismiss him entirely.

It seemed to work because Rick stood there for a moment, giving Birdperson a very unhappy look. He wanted to apologize right there and then, but he found himself hesitant to do so. He shook his head and simply slipped out of the living room again, retreating back to the spare nest room, carrying a quiet but very miserable Morty along with him. As he sat back down at the desk, he set Morty in his lap and began to think hard. Birdperson had been right; they had really only been here about a day or two, but his mind had been far too preoccupied in keeping Morty fed and clean as well as sorting his way through the absolute minefield of grief and loss when he allowed himself the time to feel it. There was also still the pressing issue of the portal gun design; their entire future was depending on it.

Whatever Morty had, it had to have come from Earth, before they had departed through the portal. Rick grabbed up a piece of blank blueprint paper and cleared away everything else on the desk in front of him. He set the paper down and began to draw, because he found that sometimes visually mapping out his thought processes would help him find reason and a solution.

Rick sketched up a timeline of the events that occurred thus far and then a couple of diagrams, tapping his pen on the table as he stared down at the data in front of him, trying to rack his brains for a logical explanation. At first he thought it might have been the common cold; incubation time for that was three to five days. Having a fever with a cold was uncommon, though, so he quickly dismissed it. Influenza was his next probable thought; it seemed to fit the profile a little better. His mind began to race with the other alternatives as he thought about all of the common childhood ailments that existed.

The only thing that fit the timeline exactly was the fact they had been in the park about 48 hours ago. At first he thought that the other kids in the park might have been the most likely infection pathway; he knew children were walking, talking disease vectors and nothing would convince him otherwise. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks: Morty had eaten a piece of candy he had found in the sandpit. Rick sat there as he reasoned through that thought, quickly concluding that it was the only viable explanation he had.

"God fucking damn it, Morty!" He growled aloud, feeling his anger rising all over again. "This is why you don't eat random shit you find lying around. Y-you're probably not even going to learn anything out of this, are you? Stupid little piece of shit... it serves your dumb ass right."

Morty had begun coughing while Rick complained at him, making miserable pained whining noises in between breaths. Rick idly patted his back as he crumpled up the piece of paper he had just been drawing on, only to be met with the sounds of the kid throwing up on him a moment later.

"Ah fuck, geez!" Rick quickly plucked Morty up, but it didn't stop. The baby boy continued vomiting down the front of his clothing and onto the floor below. After it was over, he began loudly crying once again; it had hurt, and he felt very unwell.

Rick simply held Morty at arm's length, a mixture of horrified and disgusted. He was used to his grandchildren throwing up; Morty had spit-up all the time when he was much smaller. However, he had always palmed the baby off onto his mother when it happened, and Morty had since grown out of the habit. No, this was a proper violent bout of genuine vomiting and he didn't like it one bit. Rick gritted his teeth and looked down at the floor as well as his pants; it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it still managed to utterly disgust him.

"Jesus, Morty, s-some fucking warning next time, huh? You just ruined some perfectly good clothes!" He growled out as he set the kid down on the floor next to the mess. "I'd give you some sympathy on this, but this is on you. You... y-you also just broke rule two. Stay there, I gotta clean this up. Holy shit..."

Rick was a mixture of worry and anger as he stripped off his pants, not seeming to care that he wasn't wearing underwear. After using the pants to absorb and clean up the mess on the floor, he stripped Morty's shirt off and dumped everything into a pile in the corner of the room, planning to launder everything at the earliest convenience because it was already starting to stink. After he had hastily pulled another pair of pants on, he went into the bathroom to grab up the bucket he had used for washing himself off earlier in the day, figuring it would be needed. He set it at the floor next to his chair and positioned the very miserable young boy over his knee to keep him at the ready for more of the same.

Over the next couple of hours, the situation only deteriorated further. Morty kept throwing up and then to add to the insult of being sick, it started coming out the other end. All Rick could do was hold the young child in position and wait it out. He kept his mind distracted with working on other parts of the portal gun's blueprints just to stop himself from going out of his mind with worry; if it kept going for too long, the little boy would start dehydrating.

Over the next five hours, Morty frequently broke rules one and two. Rick didn't seem to care anymore by this point and simply switched between holding the kid in place and changing over diapers as soon as they were bad enough; considering how sick Morty was, it didn't take long. His pants and shirt had been thrown up on, and he didn't even want to know what was on his sleeves anymore. At least he had more clothes, and it was still warm outside so he could do laundry if it really came to that. Morty had already gone through the two pairs of clothing he had left over and Rick was left with no other alternative other than to strip it off and leave the sick youngster in nothing more than a diaper, bundling him up in a spare lab coat to keep him warm and give him some kind of dignity.

When the bouts of vomiting had finally started slowing down, Rick filled a bottle up with sterile warm water and offered it to Morty in the attempt to get something back into him, though the kid simply wouldn't take it. After another hour had passed he had an eyedropper out and was using that instead as a means of getting fluids into him. He knew it would all pass and take its course, but it still managed to worry the hell out of him.

It was well past midnight on Bird World before Morty had finally stopped throwing up and pooping; he was finally asleep and utterly exhausted. Rick folded up a clean lab coat and tossed it onto the floor beside the cot, setting the bundle of lab coat and Morty down on it, entirely unwilling to share his bed with the youngster again until his stomach had calmed down.

He left Morty to sleep it off as he stepped back out of the room, clean clothes in one hand, the handle of the bucket in the other. He headed straight into the bathroom to dispose of the bucket's contents down the toilet. He was also in dire need of a good clean up.

After he was done and dressed again, he felt a little better about himself. Rick made his way out to the living room of Birdperson's tree house and sank heavily into the cushions of the couch, releasing a heavy sigh from his lungs; the last twelve hours with Morty had worn him down in every sense of the word. It had been positively horrible to sit through and watch, but he hoped Morty had gotten over the worst of it and would start climbing out the other side soon. Either way, he had needed to step out and take a break.

His brows were set in a deep, thoughtful scowl as he rested his head back on the cushions behind him, staring at nothing in particular above. He hadn't seen the illness coming but already had an educated guess about what it was; it hit hard and fast, taking Morty down in only a couple of hours.

He really wasn't liking the path some of his next thoughts began to take.

Birdperson had been out for most of the day and returned home to roost for the night. When he discovered that Rick was in his living room upon entering through the doorway, he stood there silently, not at all surprised to see him still awake; he had known the human to pace around his house at all hours of the night and it wasn't unusual behavior. When he noted that Rick wasn't in a bad mood, he casually stepped past him and moved through to the kitchen and began brewing herbal tea, figuring that his friend could probably do with it.

"Rick," he said after he had stepped back into the living room, carrying two cups in each hand. Even though it was his house, he stood nearby as if waiting for permission to be there, gauging the other man's reaction to his presence. "How goes your evening? When I was home earlier, I listened to some of the events in the spare nest room but I did not intrude because I figured that you had everything under control."

"Sorry about losing my shit at you earlier, BP." Rick said right away, not bothering to look down. He closed his eyes after another short moment. "Y-yeah, everything's probably under control by now... f-for now, anyway." He twisted his mouth into a deep frown when the last sentence came out.

"What do you mean?" Birdperson set one cup down on the coffee table in front of Rick and sat down beside him. "Is there more to this that I should know?"

Rick sat up, only to slump forwards again in posture. "Ugh..." He reached out with one hand to pick up the cup of tea and took a moment to sip from it. "Birdperson, I need you to take my grandson to your neighbor's house. N-not right away, but... eh." He buried his forehead in his other hand. "Just do it."

Birdperson was taken aback by the statement, yet showed nothing outwardly. Considering how adamant Rick had been about having his grandson close by at all times until this point, he found the new commentary mildly alarming and he began to wonder if something more serious was going on. "You are not coping with the responsibility of raising a young child?"

"N-no, that's not it," Rick shook his head, "Morty's fine, I've been able to handle everything he's thrown at me, surprisingly. But..." He sat up, not really wanting to finish his sentence or even bother explaining his thought processes to the other. "J-just take him away from me tomorrow."

"Rick," Birdperson sat up straight this time, looking down at him, "I cannot adequately deal with your request if you do not give me more details. You need to tell me what is going on. Forgive my forwardness with this next assumption, but if you are planning to take your own life, then you need to speak up immediately. Losing one's family and planet can be a very difficult situation to live through, so it is understood. However, there are many alternatives available and you can be assisted through your situation. You are too valuable to lose."

"Wh-w-what?!" That one had completely taken him unaware. Rick wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that subject right now, but he certainly wasn't going to get into it at any point with anyone else, let alone his best friend. "That's totally not it, Birdperson!" He growled out the reply, immediately going on the defensive. "Holy shit, where the fuck did that even come from!? That's not it at all! N-nowhere close to it!"

Birdperson sat through the outburst, saying nothing. He had said what he needed to, and now that Rick was angry, he wanted to be quiet and let him calm down again.

"Shit, no-no-no..." Rick shook his head quickly, motioning away with his free hand as if to dismiss the issue entirely. "Don't ever ask me that again!" He took another sip of the tea and began to settle again, his expression still a mixture of deep unhappiness and resignation. "Look, you can't take what I'm saying at face value? You're really... just going to make me explain this, aren't you? Y-you're... going to keep pushing me."

"Yes." Birdperson nodded once in reply. Rick's body language was entirely giving him away, and the bird man knew something was still troubling him. If suicide wasn't the reason, then he couldn't work out what else it could be.

"Look, Birdperson, fine... I-I need to go rogue for a few days." Rick sighed heavily, already finding it very difficult for him to explain and admit to. "I also probably need to take out about three gallons of water with me." He set the cup on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch again, his gaze returning to the ceiling. "If Morty has what I think it is, I need to disappear. The stupid illness is a virus that inflames your stomach and intestines. No matter what it does, it's highly contagious. W-which means I have a near 100% chance of getting infected with it as well; it's probably already incubating as we speak. The kid threw up on me all day and worse, those things are the virus's main infection vectors." Rick scowled suddenly, almost sounding like an argumentative child as he spoke again. "I don't wanna deal with this, I want to finish the portal gun!"

"Rick, is that it?" Birdperson spoke again, his voice staying calm. "That is all that is troubling you?"

Rick sat up again and stared back hard at the other. He simply couldn't understand why he didn't seem to mind. "Y-yeah... don't make me repeat it."

Birdperson's shoulders shrugged ever so slightly. "If you are going to end up as unwell and incapacitated as your grandson has done today, then you need to stay in the tree house. You have already been through too much in the last two days. I do not want to see this kill you."

"It's not fatal, Birdperson." Rick felt his anger rising again, but he kept it in check. "And, what? Seriously? No! Gross. You don't wanna put up with me in that state. I'll be completely useless and it will be coming out both ends... e-everywhere. Have you seen the Exorcist movie? Well, it's... it's pretty much like that."

"Whatever it takes," Birdperson shrugged, "I will take your grandson back to Gresharak when your health deteriorates. You will need to concentrate all your efforts into getting well again, let alone be tied up in the responsibility of a young child who is entirely dependent on you."

"Fine..." Rick huffed aloud as he folded his arms across his chest, conceding in defeat. "B-but leave me the hell alone when it happens, huh? You don't need to see that." He picked up the cup of tea again and took another long sip now that it was cool enough. He needed something to fill the hole until everything went downhill.

Birdperson watched him, seeming content that Rick had agreed to staying in his tree house; it meant that he could keep a close eye on him. He simply sat in the human's company for a while, silent as he drank his own cup of tea. After a while, he spoke up again. "So how is he doing?"

"Huh?" Rick blinked at the sudden question, then shrugged. "Oh, you mean Morty? Yeah, he's asleep, finally. He's doing all right now, I think... he's probably gotten over the worst of it by now; the young ones always seem to bounce back pretty quickly." He finished off the herbal tea and set the cup back down. "He'll be better once he's able to drink something. Be sure to tell your neighbor that once she gets him." As Rick sat there and listened to himself, he realized how much of a concerned parent he was sounding like right now, and he was very self-aware of the fact. He made a sharp snorting sound as if to cover for himself, glaring at the front door. "F-fucking little turd. Wasted half the damn day..." Without waiting for a response, he moved to his feet and headed off down the hallway, returning to the spare nest room, totally done with the conversation.

Birdperson simply watched him go, not saying anything this time. He didn't need to; Rick had already said all that had needed to be said.

Rick shut the door behind him and slumped face first down onto the cot. He was too angry and frustrated after that conversation with Birdperson, and now that he knew what was coming for him, it didn't help his mood at all. He raised his head momentarily to look down at Morty, relieved to see the kid resting comfortably on his side; it was a welcome sight after everything that had happened and the hell he had been put through seemed worth it all of a sudden. Rick quickly reached out to pull the edges of the lab coat back up over Morty's body, covering him up so he would stay warm during the night.

He buried his face back down in the pillow again, entirely upset with the thought that Birdperson had asked him if he was suicidal. Sure, of course he'd thought about it: who wouldn't have in his current circumstances? However, he really hadn't known that it was that obvious. He made a mental note to bury his emotions even further in Birdperson's presence next time, even though the guy had pretty much nailed it on the head, however much he didn't want to admit it.

He pulled the covers over himself and rolled onto his side, angry all over again. He didn't really want to kill himself, did he? He pondered that thought as his eyes watched Morty's chest rise and fall in the dim light of the room. Despite everything else he was feeling right now, he was relieved that his grandson was asleep, because it meant that his immune system had a much better chance of overcoming the virus. He simply watched the other until he eventually drifted off himself.

* * *

He wasn't sure what time it was when he woke up again, but he could already feel waves of nausea circling the pit of his gut. Rick had predicted exactly what was coming because it had been too obvious to be anything else. It didn't matter what he did, because in a few hours it was going to strike him down hard, just like it had done to Morty. There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

When he heard the soft noises next to his bed, he was quick to get up. He cared nothing about how he felt right now; getting the baby hydrated again was his only priority. He slipped out of the room only to return a few minutes later with a warm bottle of formula he had mixed up at half-strength. He picked the bundle of clothing and Morty up in one arm, the bottle in his other as he sat back down on the edge of the cot and tried to make him drink.

Morty wiggled and squirmed in protest almost immediately; he still wasn't having a bar of what the other was doing to him. He made short, angry, loud noises and then started growling, which was definitely a noise he had only learned recently. It had seemed to work for his grandfather, and now he was trying it out to see how successful it would be if he did it, too.

Rick simply sat back and watched, letting him work out his anger. He seemed hopeful as he listened to the noises his grandson was making and took it as a good sign; he must be feeling a little better if he was energetic enough to be defiant.

As he propped Morty up into a sitting position, he placed one hand around the youngster's stomach, pushing him further back in his lap until his little spine bumped against his chest. "Come on, little buddy... you gotta do this. You started it in the first place, now finish it." He gently persisted as he held the bottle in place, making another attempt to get the plastic rubber teat into the youngster's mouth. "T-this is probably hard for you to understand, but it's important right now. The sooner you do this, the faster you'll get over it again. Come on, do this one favor for me, huh? I'll let you do anything. You can climb all over me, beat me up if you want to. I'll even let you pull on my hair again. Maybe I'll even let you touch my portal gun, huh?" He made a quick mental note to design a locking safety feature when he was ready to design the controls for the device.

Morty made another loud grumble and kicked his left foot out, thumping his grandfather straight in the leg with his heel. After another moment of whining, he finally grabbed at the bottle and began to suck on it.

Rick breathed a soft sigh, feeling a small sense of relief. He dared not move, as he worried the slightest movement or disruption would stop Morty from what he was doing and was prepared to sit there as long as it took.

To his credit, Morty finished well over half the contents of the bottle. He sat up to launch it across the room and made a loud burping sound, then relaxed back into his grandfather's chest.

"Heh," Rick couldn't help but feel amused. "Good effort, little buddy. I'm proud of you." He placed a hand on Morty's forehead to check him over, noting that although he was still feeling warm to the touch, it was definitely more acceptable than it had been yesterday. "Look, I gotta be level with you... that horrible thing you have? It's going to take me down, too. Y-you don't wanna see me like that, so... I need you to hang out at the neighbor's house for the day."

Morty looked up at his grandfather as he spoke but didn't understand any of it. All he could pick up was the tone of voice and he didn't like it.

"I know it's not a good plan, but it's all we've got to fall back on right now." Rick continued the explanation, taking the youngster's attentiveness as another good sign. "Something else you need to understand... you need to behave while you're over there, huh? None of that... clingy bullshit you've been trying on me. G-got that?" He poked Morty in the chest. "This is serious."

Rick shifted Morty off his lap and placed him down beside him on the cot. After stepping across to the work table, he retrieved a small box from the space at the back; it wasn't much, but it would have to do. He upended it straight onto his set of blueprints, only to immediately fill it back up again with baby supplies in preparation for the handover. As Rick went through the box under his desk, he discovered that he was nearly out of diapers; Morty had gone through far more than the average yesterday. He couldn't worry about that now, though; it only meant that he would have to sort out an alternative as soon as he could. Once the box was loaded up, he grabbed Morty up in his free arm and stepped out into the hallway.

"I really mean it today, little buddy, no clingy bullshit. Y-you gotta be brave in life, it's only gonna get harder from here. But you gotta keep pushing through it all no matter what happens." As he listened to his own words, part of him wished he could take his own advice. He pushed the thought down and made his way into the living room, where he saw Birdperson at the stove. Good; that was what he wanted right now.

"Hey." Rick said simply to get the other male's attention, standing there as he waited to be acknowledged. He didn't want to do this, but he had little other choice. "I-I think we're ready to proceed."

"Rick?" Birdperson looked up from what he was doing; he had been brewing up something and the kitchen was filled with the rich smell of earthy notes. "How is your health?"

"I'm fine. For now." Rick shrugged. "Here, j-just take him already, might as well get it over with now before shit starts happening," he scowled, quickly adding, "literally."

Birdperson took the pot off the heat and moved over to take Morty out of Rick's arms. "Gresharak has agreed to take your grandson for as long as it takes. I would talk about this in further detail but must depart, as she is expecting us."

Morty immediately began to whimper as he was handed over. He didn't know what was happening, but already wanted to protest. He began to flail his arms, making grabbing motions with his hands back in the direction of his grandfather.

"Wait." Rick said quickly, realizing that he sounded hesitant the second it had come out. He quickly held out the cardboard box to cover for it. "Take this, too. Everything is in there. There are also directions on the sachets, it's not that hard to follow. Tell her to get his fluids up. He really needs to focus on that today, you'll..." He had to catch himself, realizing that he was sounding like a concerned parent all over again - far too sentimental. "Just get fluids into him, top priority. F-fucking drown him if you have to."

Birdperson reached out to take the box and turned to leave. Rick watched him go, his attention on Morty the entire time. A small sigh escaped him as he watched the little boy trying to climb over Birdperson's shoulder and reach back for him, his arms flailing and desperate. After they were out the door, Morty had begun screaming again. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, but knew it was for the best.

Rick just stood there until they were gone and turned on his heels, momentarily detouring to the bathroom to retrieve the bucket; it would be needed again. He headed back into the spare nest room and wasted no time to turn off the overhead light. He dumped the bucket down on the floor next to his chair and sat down to work; if this stupid stomach virus was going to take him down, so be it, but he was adamantly determined to be as productive as possible until it happened.

Rick gathered up the scattered electrical components and pushed them into a pile on the far corner of the table, resuming where he left off on the design process. After a while, he pulled out yet another blank blueprint page and began sketching up the outside casing for the portal gun; he wanted it to be a much more sleek and compact design this time, and easier to fit into his pocket. He also decided that if the casing were more solid and flat, it would have less chance of being broken when thrown around. He'd always been rough on the previous portal guns and knew that it was very likely going to be subjected to harsh treatment again on future adventures.

Even though the scientist knew the sickness was coming, he still wasn't prepared for it. He was barely able to tolerate the sharp waves of nausea that seared through his gut like burning fire. He could taste bile in the back of his throat, and he felt like he was overheating. Although he'd been sick more times than he could count from binge drinking, that was at least fun and went away as soon as blood alcohol was absorbed by the liver. This was totally different and would only keep getting worse.

Rick picked up his bottle of whiskey, downing several mouthfuls of it before going back to what he was doing; if he was going to end up absolutely wrecked then he wanted to numb as much of it as possible. When his lower abdominal region began to cramp up, he hunched over the desk and did his best to ignore it, though it didn't last very long; his stomach very quickly made sure of that. It gave a sudden heave and he grabbed up the bucket as quickly as possible, making harsh, loud retching sounds as he threw up the contents of his stomach. He simply sat there and let it happen, powerless to do anything else until it was over. The moment he was done, he set the bucket back down onto the floor and went straight back to work, not even bothering to wipe off his mouth.

"Stupid fucking dumbass Morty and his fucking sandpit candy bullshit..." He growled to himself as he adjusted his work lamp. "F-fuck you, Morty, you're the one who did this to me. Fuck you..." He couldn't really fault his grandson for it because the kid wasn't old enough to know any better, but right now he needed something to blame.

Over the next several hours it only got worse, just as predicted. Between rushed trips to the bathroom and sitting at the desk, Rick knew he was only wearing himself down faster yet pushed through it anyway; he had always been good at being stubborn.

It had gotten dark outside and he worked under the dim light of his work lamp until he couldn't concentrate on the blueprints any longer. After yet another round of violent retching, the scientist finally decided to call it quits and moved over to the cot, taking the bottle of whiskey and the bucket with him. He was utterly exhausted as he sat back down on the cot; his bouts of vomiting had sapped all the energy out of him.

Rick set the bucket beside the bed and ripped the cork off the bottle, spitting it across the room. He knew that it certainly wasn't what he was meant to be doing right now, but he was beyond caring; all he wanted was for everything to stop.

He began to chug from the bottle like it was water. It burned all the way down and his throat already hurt, so it didn't matter; if his stomach could absorb the alcohol faster than his next round of vomiting, then what he was doing to himself would be worth it. He finally lay down on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow, simply lying there for however long he could until either his stomach or his lower gut decided to revolt again. He felt like he was on fire, yet he could feel his body shivering. He pulled the bed covers over his head and wished that everything in existence would just go away.

He thought that he had hit rock bottom when he had come through the portal a few days ago, but the virus was like a kick to the balls while he already was down in the gutter; this was the bottom now. A sense of complete hopelessness washed over him as the alcohol kicked in and he began to cry into his pillow; he felt like garbage in every sense of the word. He didn't even try to stop himself or muffle the sound this time, he just let it out as soon as it came.

His sick addled mind soon began taking him to dark places that he didn't really want it to wander, the large amount of alcohol swimming through his head not helping one bit. He began mentally telling himself over and over again that the situation was hopeless, his life was a lie, and that he was a complete and utter failure. Earth was gone because of him and him alone, everyone was dead and it was all his fault. And Morty, oh god, that poor little boy; he deserved so much more than what he could give.

No matter what he did, he would never be able to make things right again.

A heavy stab of guilt hung over his heart as he thought about that. Everything was his fault; the little boy had no future because of him. No matter what he did, he would never be a proper substitute for the kid's real parents and he was totally kidding himself if he even thought for a minute that he could because he was too screwed up himself. He'd already damaged Morty more than enough, the youngster's clingy dependency behavior existed entirely because of him. Maybe there would be some permanent psychological damage and he would be screwed up for the rest of his life because of it: he simply didn't know.

Rick began to wish with every fiber of his being that he hadn't cared so much. He wished that he could have just had the sense to leave Morty behind to die; at least then he would be with the rest of his family. The drunken scientist raised his head, his eyes widening in the realization that he still didn't even know what to do. Then he concluded that he had never really ever known what to do in the first place; most of the time he was just winging it and using his intelligence to get himself out of trouble. He couldn't think his way out of this one. And after a few moments, not even that mattered either.

After another round of mentally beating himself, Rick forced himself onto his feet, his stomach twisting into sudden knots of pain, protesting to the sudden movement. As he drunkenly stumbled across the room back towards the table, he threw up down the front of his shirt and onto the floor; he didn't care.

His eyes scanned across the desk, soon eyeing off one of the old guns he had designed well over twenty years ago. As he picked it up, he took a moment to admire his own craftsmanship, finding it fitting that he should be doing this with something he had designed himself. He was the cause of all his problems after all, of course he should be solving them with something he had created by his own hand.

He clicked the firing mechanism into place and placed the end of the barrel straight between his eyes. He hesitated only for a moment before pulling the trigger.

Click.

Nothing.

Rick raised an eyebrow and pulled the trigger twice more, only to remove it again and discover it had no charge left; the battery had probably been depleted well over a decade ago. He threw the gun hard at the floor and crumpled into the chair at the desk with heavy defeat. He leaned forward onto the table and began openly sobbing into his blueprints.

After everything that had happened, he had finally decided that this was the bottom - and he was such a failure that he couldn't even kill himself properly with his own gun.

* * *

Birdperson opened the door to the spare nest room a few hours later. He had spent all day brewing up something particularly complicated and he figured that his friend's stomach would have finally calmed down enough to allow him to administer it.

The silence in the room had gone on far too long for his liking and he was growing concerned; he knew Rick's mind wasn't in a good place to begin with and he wanted to check on him. What he saw next in the light of the dim room next made all of his feathers ruffle; Rick was hunched over the chair, his head slumped down on his desk. His hands were completely relaxed at his sides and there was a large gun on the floor nearby.

Birdperson stepped across the room in three paces, immediately placing his free hand on Rick's neck, relieved to discover that his heartbeat was a strong, rhythmic pulse and that he was still very much alive. He was also very warm to the touch and drenched in sweat.

"Rick," he said promptly, "wake up." He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and began to shake him while he continued to hold the small cup he had brought in with the other.

"H-huh..?" Rick weakly groaned in response. He didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to feel anything.

"Rick," Birdperson said again, though this time it was more firm. "You need to sit up."

"Fff..." Rick hissed out harshly in reply, his voice weak and hoarse. "F-fuck off..."

Birdperson decided that he had enough of this behavior. He set the cup down and planted both hands firmly on the other male's shoulders. "Get up."

Rick responded this time, doing what he was told. As he sat up in the chair, the smell of his own clothes hit him; he reeked of alcohol and bile and had to recoil a little at the sharp stench. He wiped his eyes off on his sleeve and turned his head away; there was no way he could hide what he was feeling right now.

Birdperson simply moved around the chair until he was standing in front of his friend's field of vision again. He picked up the cup and held it out. "Drink this."

"No point, o-only going to throw it back up..." Rick kept his head still, but didn't want to look up; he already knew what Birdperson would have walked in on and there was no way out of it. He felt utterly ashamed of himself.

Birdperson leaned over the other, placing a hand under Rick's chin. He tilted his head up just enough so he could place the edge of the cup to his mouth. "Drink this," he repeated himself in the exact same tone he had just used, "it will help to break the cycle of purging."

Rick furrowed his brows as if to protest, but then thought better of it. He reached up with a hand to hold the cup and began to slowly down the contents. It tasted vaguely of aniseed and dirt, along with several other strong herbs that he couldn't identify. While the flavor wasn't unbearable, he found it unpleasant. Still, he drank the whole thing if just to humor the other. If he threw it back up again, at least it would mean that his statement would have been right.

Birdperson simply stood there, supervising the other while he drank. When Rick was done, he took the cup away and stepped back towards the door. "Go back to bed," his voice had resumed its plain and calm tone, "you will feel much better tomorrow morning. We will have another talk then."

Rick visibly flinched at those words; he didn't want to do anything of the sort. Though if it would make Birdperson go away, he would do what he said. He shakily pushed himself onto his feet and drunkenly stumbled back towards the bed, collapsing down on it in a semi-coordinated tumble.

Birdperson was satisfied. He shut the door again and left Rick to sleep it off.

It was probably the medicine that Birdperson had given him, or the huge load of whiskey he had consumed along with it, that finally knocked him out completely. He didn't hear the sound of the portal opening up near the cot, nor did he register the sound of another moving around near his work table, shuffling things across and under the desk, adding to them, removing other things again.

He definitely didn't notice when the other moved over him and momentarily lingered to shoot him in the neck with a needle gun.

The other simply picked up the bucket, reaching into the portal to grab another one identical to it. He dropped it beside the cot and stepped back through the portal once more. It disintegrated as its owner went back through and it broke apart as if it had never existed.

Rick continued sleeping, snoring his head off, completely unaware of what had just happened to him.


	6. Wubba Lubba Dub Dub

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.

 **NOTE:** Some artistic liberties were taken with some names in this chapter, but they're fairly minor and easily ignorable. Grammar + repeats fixed + Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick. Thank you so much!

* * *

 **Chapter 6 – Wubba Lubba Dub Dub**

 **November 21st, 10:05am Local Time, 2001  
** **Birdperson's Tree House  
** **Bird World, Dimension Unknown**

* * *

Rick simply couldn't understand himself right now; he had just woken up feeling absolutely amazing without even a trace of nausea or fever. Considering where he had been the night before, the amount of contrast between then and now was absolutely unbelievable. There was no logic or sense behind it, but he sure was happy to feel somewhere towards normal so soon. His back was itching like crazy, which he took as a good indicator; it meant that he was on the way to healing up. He decided to chance the risk rolling onto his back to test it out, quickly discovering that it still hurt. However, it was far more tolerable and would change how he slept; he had missed not being able to do it.

None of it was making sense, though; why was he feeling so damn good? Was Birdperson's medicine really that effective? He did discover something that wasn't good though; he absolutely reeked of vomit and booze. At least THAT was normal for him.

Rick got to his feet and stripped down, tossing his clothing into the odoriferous pile that was accumulating in the corner. As he reached under the cot for another set of clothes, he discovered that he was only down to one lab coat, one shirt, and a few pairs of pants; laundry would have to be done soon whether he wanted it or not.

He wasted no more time thinking about it as he moved out of the room; the good mood and overwhelming sense of wellness had also come with ravenous hunger. He was so preoccupied with how he felt that he didn't even think to take a look at the room around him.

Rick had a bounce in his step as he went all the way to the kitchen. After filling up a cup with ordinary water, he downed the entire thing in one go. A loud rumbling burp escaped him as he began scanning the kitchen area for food; he was so hungry that he was willing to eat anything.

Birdperson drifted into the kitchen, having been alerted to the sound of Rick's burping, taking it as a signal that he was up again. He simply stood back at the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, observing. As he watched Rick, he was completely silent as he tried to work out if his friend was putting on an act or genuinely happy.

Rick rediscovered the block of sugar in the cupboards he had found last time and wasted no time biting into it, chewing through the raw crunchy texture. "Hey, BP." He said casually as he took another bite out of the sugar brick, chewing for a moment before swallowing. "What's hangin'?"

"Greetings, Rick. I am quite glad that you are well enough to be up." Birdperson told him. "However, I would like to express my disappointment. Even after being given the medicine, you still found the time to play with your portal gun. I saw the light from under the door in your room last night after I had instructed you to go back to bed."

"No way, BP." Rick bit off another huge chunk of sugar and chewed on it, talking with his mouth full. "You must be seeing shit because the portal gun's not even started. I'm going to get out the chemical kit and start etching the circuit boards today." He swallowed what was in his mouth, adding to his statement. "Got any more of this? It's really good."

"Why are you eating my pine sugar, Rick?" Birdperson raised an eyebrow. "I can obtain more with relative ease but I must say that I am surprised that you would rather eat a single ingredient than an actual food."

"I ate it because it was there. And hey, what the hell are you talking about? Sugar is a food. I can eat it, therefore it's food." Rick stuffed the last portion of the sugar brick into his mouth as if to demonstrate. "See? It fits the very definition of the word." He licked the remnants off his fingers, having decided he really liked it. "Besides, people eat sugar all the time, but they call it 'candy'. Eating sugar by itself is simply eliminating the manufacturing process. P-pretty efficient if you ask me." He turned back towards the cupboards, wanting to resume his search.

"I don't understand, Rick," Birdperson continued to watch the other closely, "you have not even started your new portal gun?"

"Nope," Rick shrugged as he grabbed up a jar of grain, "it's still on paper. I haven't finished the entire design just yet, but at least I can actually construct the first part of it today." He put his ear to the jar as he shook it, then took the lid off to sniff, clapping the lid back on afterwards, disgusted by what he had found. "Why do you keep so much useless shit around? Seriously, what the fuck is this even supposed to be?" He glared hard at the jar and returned it to the cupboard, muttering, "So impractical... back on Earth, we used our kitchens for, you know, actual food..."

As Birdperson continued to observe, he finally reasoned in his mind that Rick was actually being genuine. He certainly was in a good mood to say the least, which he knew wouldn't last very long once he started speaking about the most pressing subject on his mind. There was no way to delicately approach it, not that he had ever been particularly good at that anyway.

"You are legitimately hungry, Rick?" Birdperson found that information a little surprising, but said nothing further about it; he needed to say what had to be said. "You are not behaving like this for any other reason?"

"What?" Rick grunted suddenly, turning his head back to glare at the bird man. He already had a good idea about what Birdperson was about to get into, but he still didn't want to discuss it. He made an attempt at turning the conversation back in the way he wanted, wanting to be the one in control of it. "It's a kitchen, w-what the fuck do you think I'm doing here?" He resumed rummaging through the cupboards. He wasn't even looking for anything anymore, he was just making himself appear busy and distracted. "Let the man feed himself. Holy shit."

"Rick, we need to talk." Birdperson continued to watch the other, figuring he was definitely deflecting now; he was wise to this strategy and wasn't going to tolerate it any longer. "You are expressing behaviors of great concern and you will need some coping strategies to help you through your situation."

Rick narrowed his eyes at that statement and slammed the cupboards shut with a loud bang, his expression turning dark in an instant. "Oh, not this fucking bullshit again..." He stared at the closed cupboard space ahead of him, completely unwilling to look at the other. "Look, stop asking about it. I'm fine!"

"You are not fine, Rick. And you can dismiss this as many times as you like, but you cannot deny what happened last night." Birdperson stood there and watched him carefully; he knew he was going to strike all the wrong chords and that it was going to make his friend very angry, but it was imperative that he discussed it. "What would have happened if you had been allowed to go further? What would have happened to Morty if you had been successful?"

"Look, BP," As Rick gritted his teeth, it was taking all his power of will not to explode into another wild fit of rage. "Full disclosure, I was in a bad place yesterday. But that's done with... done and dusted. Y-you... you don't need to worry about it again." He narrowed his eyes even further before moving away, intending to retreat back to the spare room. "If you want me to get out of your kitchen, fine. I'll go forage somewhere else. Either way, I'm done talking about this."

"Rick. I am sorry for this, but," Birdperson hesitated for a moment, "your guns need to be confiscated from you until further notice. Until I have some kind of guarantee indicating otherwise, you have proven that you cannot be trusted with them."

"What!?" That one made him stop dead in his tracks. Rick swung around to face the other finally, wild eyes glaring. "Why?! Don't do that to me, Birdperson!"

"I am sorry, Rick. It has to be done." Birdperson's tone was simple and resolute.

"Fuck, no!" Rick quickly shook his head. "No-no-no, no! Don't do this to me! You already know I don't like being told where to go and what to do, besides, I'm a wanted felon, same as you! How the hell am I supposed to defend myself if the goddamn bureaucrats come back to Bird World and find me stranded here?! Th-they found me on Earth somehow, and you know how fucking far away it was from everything else. Chances are th-they... they're already out there looking for me again!"

"It can be dealt with accordingly, Rick." Birdperson told him simply. "We won last time, and we can do it again."

"Because you had me!" Rick growled back in his sudden reply, poking at himself in the sternum with a pointed finger; it sounded incredibly self-important but he didn't care. "Don't you get it, BP? Who the hell do you think designed all those guns and supplied them? Why do you think it was such a success? You're not thinking logically about this, y-you... you're not making any sense." He exhaled sharply as a means of keeping himself from losing it. His back was itchy beyond reason, which wasn't adding to his mood. "Point is, you can't take my guns away from me, Birdperson! That's what I do! Or used to, at least..." He placed a hand behind his back and began to scratch one of the many itches. "Look, this is completely irrational. Come on! At the very least, I can pull them apart and salvage the components inside."

"I understand where you are coming from, Rick." Birdperson continued to stand there and watch, seeming content that although his friend was upset, he was still managing to reason his way through it for the most part. "But understand that what I am doing right now is entirely for your benefit. Even you should be able to see the logic behind that."

Rick twisted his mouth into a seriously unhappy expression, turning his attention back towards the door of his room. He wanted to escape and go back to work, and part of him just wanted to make a break for it and start running. He didn't want to admit it, but Birdperson wasn't wrong, and he wasn't entirely certain he could trust himself either. There was no way in hell he would say that out loud, however.

Birdperson just stood there and watched Rick's body language, watching his eyebrows twitch and his mind at work. He figured it could go either way at the moment, and he was interested to see the outcome.

"Fine!" Rick finally said with a wave of his hand as if to dismiss the issue entirely, outwardly seeming suddenly very calm all of a sudden. Instead of dealing with how he was feeling, he had decided to just suppress it along with everything else. "I'll take the batteries out and start pulling them apart." He turned back to face the other, pointing at him, his tone turning very sharp and aggressive. "But I need the circuit boards, you have no idea how valuable they are to my work! And know that what you're doing is completely pointless... I can easily make a bomb and blow myself up, o-or or bludgeon my eyes out with a screwdriver!" He hesitated for a moment as he realized how bad that had just sounded, then quickly added to his statement. "Which I wouldn't do! I'm just saying... I'm not stupid, and you know that. Take something away from me and I'll just find another way around it. Don't fuck with an innovator, yo."

"How long will it take you to dismantle your guns?" Birdperson ignored most of his rambling; he wanted to get to the point.

"Possibly an hour or two, maybe three at most," Rick shrugged, answering with blunt honesty, "which means you're asking me to waste even more of my time! I'm still supposed to be making a portal gun, everything I do from here on out is riding on that one single design being finished. Y-you... you DO know that, right?"

Birdperson simply shrugged back in reply, not saying anything this time.

"Stupid-ass motherfucking bitch..." Rick muttered loudly as he headed back towards the spare nest room. "What a complete fucking waste of my time and resources..."

Birdperson watched him go and resumed what he was doing; he didn't need to interfere any longer. He trusted Rick's word and knew that he would bring the gun parts out for him to take. He also knew that the conversation would likely be a sour point for a long time to come, and that perhaps it might even put a serious dent in their friendship. But Rick's life was more valuable than that and he had won. He wasn't about to go and rub it in.

* * *

Rick managed to contain his anger just long enough to head back into the spare nest room. However, once back inside, he wasted no time unleashing the full extent of his rage onto the guns that sat on top of the work table. He picked up the first three he could get his hands on and threw them hard at the nearest wall, only to have to shield his eyes with an arm as they smashed apart, sending broken shards flying back at him and across the room.

He tore open the drawers on the side of the work table and cleared out the top one entirely, launching five more guns and several failed prototypes straight through the open doorway of his room, grabbing up a couple of partially finished ones to discard with them. Next, he grabbed up an old voltmeter box; while it wasn't actually a gun, it had been used to test them so it went out as well. Rick launched it into the hallway as hard as he could; it made a loud smashing sound as it hit the wooden wall opposite the doorway and bits of it skittered everywhere across the floor outside.

"Fucking hell! I'm not wasting any more time on this bullshit, so just take the damn lot right now!" Rick was yelling, his anger having essentially escalated into a full-blown temper tantrum, and entirely directed at the conversation he had just had with Birdperson despite the fact the other wasn't in the room. "Where the HELL DO YOU GET OFF TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!? You want to take my shit away from me!? Fucking TAKE IT THEN!" He started throwing screwdrivers and books out the doorway next. After another moment, he didn't even know what he was throwing anymore, as whatever ended up in his hands met the same fate; straight out into the hallway and onto the floor outside.

Then his anger turned towards the very table itself; he grabbed at the edges, struggling for a moment as he tried to flip the entire thing. When he was unsuccessful, he swept a hand across the desk, aggressively flinging off all the electrical components within reach. He sank heavily into his chair and slammed a fist down onto the top of the desk. It hurt, but at least it expressed a little of what he was feeling.

"Fucking hell..." Rick gripped the edges of the table with both hands, and he was so angry that his arms were shaking. He just simply couldn't believe that his best friend, a person he trusted with his own life, a person he had fought alongside and won so many battles with, was telling him what to do as if he was a child, and taking away an important aspect of his life. Designing guns had been a huge part of his younger life and at one point it was all he had been doing. It made him feel powerless. It also felt like an act of betrayal rather than a means of keeping him safe. Of course, he was still thinking logically enough to understand where Birdperson was coming from but didn't agree with it in the slightest. He knew the other had his best interests in mind, but that certainly didn't do anything to make him feel better.

As Rick finally did begin to calm down again, a strong sense of sadness and regret began to wash over him; he had spent years of his life designing some of the guns he had just thrown away. The scientist had poured countless hours of his time into diligently constructing those weapons and making sure every solder point, contact, switch, trigger, wire, and every connection point was absolutely precise and perfect. Now they were just trash and broken debris outside his door.

He lowered his head, thumping his forehead down onto the table in front of him. He suddenly didn't feel welcome in the house anymore, and he certainly didn't want to be there if the situation with Birdperson was only going to continue or escalate further.

He just sat for a while and allowed his temper the time to simmer down again, his mind returning to the next steps of his portal gun design process; the chemical pots he needed to use in order to etch his circuit board designs were harmful and toxic, and the etching process needed to be done in an area with good ventilation, all of which could be done outside.

Rick got to his feet, figuring he could do it far away from the tree house; he felt well enough to risk climbing down the tree and his back would probably tolerate it by now. He began going through the boxes in the back corner of the room, remembering that he had tossed a backpack back into one he had filled with unwanted stuff. Once he found it, he wasted no time cramming it full of supplies as well as the pots of chemicals he had stored on the desk after unpacking them. He snatched the blueprints up off the desk and rolled them up around his half-finished bottle of whiskey, stuffing them down into the side of the bag. He dropped his battery-powered ionic soldering gun on top of everything else and tightly zipped the bag shut.

"I'm probably going to get bitched at for leaving, but I really don't give a shit at this point..." He muttered to himself as he hauled the bag over his left shoulder. The scientist carefully slipped out of the room and into the hallway, stealthily moving over the broken voltmeter and gun debris on the ground. He moved down the hallway, his pace speeding up as he saw Birdperson sitting on the couch in the living room; he had been intending to sneak out, but he had already been seen. He really didn't want to talk right now.

Birdperson rose to his feet at once; he had seen Rick approaching and had been sitting quietly in the living room the entire time, patiently waiting for the other to calm down again.

"Rick," He said in his usual flat tone as he picked a cup off the coffee table, "I have brewed another batch of medicine for your stomach. I know that you are feeling better but I would like you to drink this. It is merely a precautionary measure at this point." He held it out for the other to take.

Rick stopped in front of Birdperson, shooting a death glare at him. When he saw the cup being offered to him, he very deliberately moved his right hand out, smacking the cup up from underneath, knocking it out of Birdperson's grasp and upending the contents all over him. "Fuck you!" His tone was cold and harsh as he spoke. He resumed his brisk pace towards the front door, shoving it open by slamming his shoulder into it. Once it swung open, he stepped outside.

Birdperson just stood there as the contents of the cup splashed all over him; although he had just spent hours brewing it, it didn't matter. He watched Rick move out the front door and promptly moved to follow him outside, stopping as he saw the other peering over the edge of the landing. "Rick, what are you doing? Come back inside. You were sick yesterday and you still need time to recover."

Rick wasn't going to have a word of it. He held onto the backpack strap with his left hand and raised his right arm up, extending his middle finger back at Birdperson before jumping straight off, falling in a rough heap into a pile of bushes at the bottom. Once on the ground, he scrambled to his feet and broke into a run; he knew that Birdperson would probably follow him so he wanted to get as much of a head start as possible. He really didn't want to be found right now.

Birdperson decided to let him go. Although he was vaguely impressed that the human had just jumped off the landing of his tree house without so much as a hint of hesitation. He knew the height from the landing to the ground was easily twenty feet and a fall like that wasn't going to be any good for him. As he watched his friend running away on the ground below, he was torn; he wanted to give Rick his independence and to make him feel like he was still in charge and in control. However, he didn't want him to be alone until his mind was in a better place. Regardless of how he felt, the situation had officially escalated out of his ability to manage it anymore.

He spread his wings and in two powerful thrusts, he was high in the air. However, he didn't follow Rick and turned in the opposite direction. He knew somebody who had better ideas about this sort of thing than he did.

* * *

Rick continued running, though it didn't take him terribly long to slow down again; he hadn't eaten anything besides the sugar brick from the kitchen and didn't have anything else in him. He tired out reasonably quickly and slowed to a brisk jog, then a casual walking pace once he was out of breath. He simply kept moving, wanting to get as far away from the tree house as possible. Soon enough, he recognized one of the paths he had taken many times before over the years. He turned onto it and kept going.

After a while, his travels took him to one of the many hot springs in the area; he knew the area well because he used it quite often during his last long-term stay on Bird World. As he sat down under the shade of an enormous tree, he set the bag down beside him and took out the blueprints, the whiskey bottle, a scratching tool, and a pair of clippers, and immediately got stuck back into his work. Although he was still sour over what had happened with Birdperson, he liked being outside; he'd been cooped up in the tree house for far too long and needed the change of scenery.

Now that he didn't have any distractions to worry about, Rick's mind was entirely focused on what he was doing and the rest of the world around him had been completely zoned out. He followed the blueprint designs exactly as he had marked them out and was calm again, content to be doing exactly what he was good at, finding comfort in the familiarity of making something. After he had spent a couple of hours meticulously scoring out both circuit boards with the scratching tool, he opened up one of the chemical pots and dropped both of them in; they needed to soak for a couple of hours until they were completely saturated and couldn't absorb any more. He set the second pot aside next to it, ready for phase two.

After making sure both jars weren't going to tip over, Rick stood on his feet and pulled the cork off his bottle of whiskey, taking a few chugs from it to celebrate his progress; he was finally getting somewhere. He had time to kill now, and although he was very hungry, he was near a hot spring. He figured he wouldn't be able to immerse himself completely while he still had the stitches in his back, but anything was better than nothing. After setting the bottle down again, he stripped his clothes off and dumped them onto the ground next to his bag. He headed straight into the warmth of the hot spring and initially stayed in the shallows because he hadn't expected it to be so warm. As he got used to the temperature, he ventured in deeper and finally allowed himself to relax, and his mind to wander again.

He had no idea how to deal with what Birdperson had brought up with him; there was absolutely no graceful way to come back from that. He didn't regret how angry he had been either, as Rick needed to let Birdperson know that he wasn't going to tolerate being stepped on. Although he didn't know what to do and how to resolve the issue, he knew that he would have to apologize at some point and make it up to the other. Somehow.

"Fuck... I'm such an asshole..." He muttered aloud to himself.

Rick sighed as he moved even further into the spring; the water was now at the line of his butt, but it was about as far in as he could risk going. He bent over and began to splash warm water down his front. Even though he didn't have soap, he was in serious need of a wash; he'd been sick yesterday and smelled vaguely of vomit and dried sweat. Any attempt at washing that off had to be better than nothing at all. He splashed water over his hair and rubbed his hands vigorously through the thick mass of spikes, flicking the water out again once he figured he'd done a good enough job.

He stood up again and idly picked at one of the pieces of gauze padding stuck to his butt; it was itching like crazy and he kind of wanted to know how the injury was doing underneath. He carefully peeled it off and ran a finger across the line of the sutures, immediately frowning when he recognized the shape of the injury, its curved line completely unmistakable; it had the exact diameter of the portal gun bulb after it had broken and cut into him.

As he leaned forward to splash more water over his chest and under his arms, he realized that he had no idea where to get another bulb that would be strong enough to contain the energies the portal gun emitted when it was on. He vaguely considered making one from scratch; the people of Bird World already knew how to make all kinds of glass.

Before he could think too much more, he heard a large flurry of powerful wing flaps overhead. He looked up, then all around him, only to jump in surprise when he saw a particularly large-bodied female bird-person land with an abrupt thud right next to his stuff; he certainly hadn't been expecting that. He watched her for a moment, waiting to see what she was going to do. His first observation about her was that she was huge; very round and fat. He wasn't about to judge her for that, though, as he was far more concerned that she would touch or knock his stuff over. He also had no idea who she was.

"H-hey!" Rick hurriedly called out to the newcomer, standing up tall, not seeming to care that his nether regions were exposed and very visible for her to see. "Get away from my science stuff! Don't touch that, y-you don't know what it is!" He began rapidly waving his hands as if motioning to shoo her away.

The female bird-person just looked back at him and began to laugh; the sight of the naked, spiky-haired, wingless human flailing his arms about was amusing all on its own, but she found his abrasive gravelly voice to be positively hilarious. Her wings fluttered around her shoulders and her blue-green neck feathers shook as she began to roar with screechy laughter. After a moment, three tiny hatchlings crawled up her back to get a look at what their mother was laughing at and they promptly joined in.

Rick's eyes widened at that; was the sight of him naked really that funny? He suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious and moved both hands to cover his private parts. "D-did you seriously come here just to laugh at my ding-dong?! You're fucking disgusting! I'm gonna puke!"

"Language, tut-tut-tut." She waved a pointed finger at him before returning her hands to cuddle the bundle of blankets at her chest, which were supported around her with a cloth sling. "Whatever will the hatchlings think, my friend?"

"Friend? I have no idea who the fuck you are!" Rick growled as he moved out of the spring and hastily moved the distance across the ground to pick up his lab coat, wasting no time to cover himself up with it despite the fact he was still dripping wet. It immediately clung to him.

"Oh, I am indeed sorry," the female's tone suddenly seemed very genuinely apologetic, "do you need a moment? I did not mean to disturb you."

Rick glared back at her, holding his lab coat closed with a hand, scowling as his wet hair stuck to his face in cold wet dripping clumps. "Oh I'm disturbed enough already without you being here... go away!" He told her, his tone firm and angry.

The female bird-person grinned at him and resumed her loud screechy laughter, her whole chest seeming to shake with it.

Rick narrowed his eyes, his expression completely flat and unimpressed; he hadn't meant for it to be interpreted as a joke. "Seriously, w-what the fuck do you want from me? Can you just... go away and leave me alone?" He decided he already didn't like this person - he found her far too loud and annoying for his liking. Female bird-people and their personalities were always kind of strange and erratic to him; males often tended to be far more predictable and tolerable. They were either monotone, stoic, or very neutral, kind of like Birdperson. Birdperson was good most of the time – Rick found his personality very tolerable and the guy could absorb his sour moods and explosions of temper without even the slightest hint of offense. However, this woman's personality was a complete polar opposite to Birdperson's. She was also being very, very annoying simply by being there.

Even though the ambient air temperature was warm, the water on Rick's body had already gone cold and he began to shiver. "S-seriously, j-just f-fuck off already!"

The large female watched him for a moment and began to step back. "Oh dear, you are cold. I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you in the middle of bathing. You should take a moment to get dressed again, yes?" She turned around to walk away down the pathway in an attempt to grant him some privacy. "Come children, give the human his space."

Rick stared at them and scooted behind the large tree, out of sight. He quickly took off the lab coat and used it as a towel, rubbing himself down with it as quickly as possible. He threw it over his head and vigorously rubbed his hair down. Once dry enough, he tossed the lab coat aside and grabbed up his pants and shirt, hastily pulling them back on. There wasn't much he could do about his hair for the time being and it would probably be damp for a few hours; it was also an incredible mess, more so than usual.

As he sat down to put his shoes back on, his attention returned back towards the strange bird woman and he scowled; she had three tiny hatchlings who were very confidently holding onto her back and he still had absolutely no idea who she was. She wasn't going away either, which meant she most probably wanted to talk to him. Rick groaned at that assumption; he absolutely did not want to talk to anyone right now, let alone some random mother and her kids, who would very likely be just as annoying as her. He shook the jars of chemicals beside his bag, half tempted to shove the lids back on and pack them up so he could slip away before she could notice.

The female bird person must have heard the sound, because she immediately turned around, looking back in Rick's general direction. "Are you decent?"

Rick had to bite his tongue this time. He did not want to answer in his typical sarcastic manner and risk having her laugh at him all over again; he really wasn't in a sociable mood. He said nothing and simply stood up again, walking back out into the open. His only reply was a singular grunt in her direction as he stuffed his hands into his pants pockets; the conversation had barely begun and he was already done with it.

"Such a strange choice of attire. But then again, you are not of this world, are you? No." She said as she looked him up and down. "One would never think that such a tiny little thing would be responsible for so much on this planet."

"Hey, watch it, I'm not little!" Rick snapped back, his brow twitching momentarily at that one; he knew he wasn't the tallest person around, but he certainly wasn't short either. "Seriously, just get to the fucking point already, why the hell are you even here? I have important science shit to do and then things to test after that. Y-you don't even need to know what it is, it would be totally beyond your comprehension anyway."

The female gently tapped the bundle of blankets in her sling and smiled. "You know, Ricksanchez," she pronounced the first and last name as if it was one word, "You are quite hard to find when you do not want to be found. I followed the description that was given, but you did not match it. The only way I found you from the air was because the plumage on your head is an unmistakable giveaway."

Rick was openly glaring hard at her now; she knew his name and he still didn't know who she was. "Get to the fucking point already! And my name's just 'Rick' – not 'Richard', not 'Mr. Sanchez', and NEVER 'Ricky'." His left eye started twitching at the mere pronunciation of the last name he had given her. "God, if you ever call me that, I will rip out your flight pinions and fucking stuff them down your throat!"

"Again, language," she shook her head, "what will the children think? What will they grow up learning? You need to be a better influence on your family, Ricksanchez."

Rick folded his arms as he turned his attention away, glaring hard at his bag and chemical pots, finding them way more interesting to look at than her. There hadn't even been any point in explaining his name to her, and it took him every ounce of will not to yell out that his family was dead and that it didn't even matter anymore. He also didn't want to do that because even mentioning it would risk opening up a difficult conversation he didn't want to have with anyone right now, let alone a total stranger.

The female tapped the bundle of blankets again, making very soft gentle tuttering and chirping sounds down at it. "Come on, little one. Wake up." She looked back up at Rick and smiled. "So, you want to know why I am here, yes? I have something for you, Ricksanchez."

Rick gritted his teeth, his arms stiff at his sides now, his hands balled into fists. "What could you possibly have that I wan-"

He never finished his sentence. The bird woman pulled the bundle of blankets out of the sling and moved the distance across to him, gently pushing it against his chest.

Rick's expression visibly softened and his anger practically disintegrated as he took the bundle into his arms. Morty was inside and under a number of layers, very comfortably wrapped up and very much asleep. All that was visible was part of his face, his nose and his mouth. Rick shifted him onto one arm and took a moment to pull some of the blanket away from his eyes, figuring it would make him more comfortable.

"He is still sleeping," she smiled as she watched them, "be kind to him, Papa. He needs you right now."

"Aah, no no no," Rick shook his head quickly, "I'm not his father, I'm his maternal grandfather." He looked back up at her and narrowed his eyes. "Why the hell didn't you just tell me who you were in the first place? What was the point of screwing me around like that?" He scowled, suddenly feeling incredibly silly over the whole conversation. If he hadn't been so riled up, he probably would have been able to deduct who she was right away simply by looking at her; the three hatchlings on her back suddenly seemed like a dead giveaway. "What's your name again?"

"It's Gresharak," she chuckled at him, "and I did not tell you who I was initially because I wanted to see you for myself, Ricksanchez. I have heard a great deal many things about you and I wanted to find out what kind of person you are. You are indeed a strange one and very bad tempered to say the least. Totally unlike the males of my species." She smiled, nodding once. "However, you are honest and blunt, which is a quality to be admired. Would you like to come back to my house for some food? You look like you could do with something decent in your belly."

Rick looked down at the jars of chemicals, then up at Morty, then back across to the woman nearby. He had to admit, the idea of food sounded very appealing right now, but he needed to finish the etching process. "I have too much to do," he shrugged after a moment, "besides, how the hell would I climb your tree? I could do it on my own, but not with a kid like this."

Gresharak stepped forwards again. She pulled the cloth sling off her body and then stepped in to place it around Rick, carefully adjusting it so it would fit him. She reached forward to pull open the front, smiling at him. "Put him in there."

Rick gritted his teeth as he reared his head back instinctively, feeling very uncomfortable with the other being so close to him. He wasn't a sociable person by nature and didn't like unfamiliar people so close in his personal space. He did what she said anyway, because he knew it would make her go away faster. He carefully tucked Morty into the open portion of the sling, raising his eyebrows as he noticed how easily he fit and how snug and secure he seemed in there. The youngster didn't even move an inch when he was reshuffled and kept sleeping.

"I actually don't need this," Rick said quickly after another moment, "I have something like it back up in the tree house at Birdperson's house."

"You can keep it as they are not hard to put together." Gresharak stepped back from Rick, seeming pleased. "Your hatchling has never been able to hold on during flight so I fashioned this alternative for him. It is best if it stays with him."

"You took my grandson flying?" Rick had to huff at that; he had wanted to take Morty out for his first flight for a while but had been waiting until he was old enough to actually remember the experience. Now he had just learned that this complete stranger had already deprived him of the privilege and he was incredibly cranky about it. He knew it was a ridiculously stupid thing to get so worked up over, but it still angered him anyway.

Gresharak smiled back at Rick as she extended her wings; her wingspan was positively massive, and much larger than Birdperson's. "How do you think we get around?"

"Yeah, yeah, that was a stupid question..." Rick scowled further. "Touché." His attention returned to the chemical pots on the ground. "Look, I'm glad you're enjoying talking to me because I know I'm interesting as all hell. But I still have shit to do, and I can't climb your tree while these things are still open. It's really important that the saturation process finishes without any interruptions." He pointed to the jars on the ground as if to emphasize his point. "So go away already a-and leave me to it."

"How long will they take to finish?" Gresharak seemed genuinely curious now. She peered around him and down at the ground, not having a clue what the strange things were. However, if the smaller human was saying they were important, then they must have been. "Do you want to sit down and talk?"

"No." Rick grunted; it was an immediate response with no thought needed whatsoever.

Gresharak was chuckling at him again. She stepped away to sit down near Rick's bag. "However long it takes, so be it. I need to ask you about your grandson anyway, that is also important. If you wish to keep leaving him with me, then I will need information."

Rick stood there quietly, his left eye twitching; he wanted to scream so badly right now. Part of him also wanted to just run away, but he couldn't just abandon his portal gun circuit boards as they were far too important and he didn't have any more etching chemicals. He released a heavy sigh and begrudgingly sat down on the other side of the pots, keeping a safe enough distance away from the bird woman so she couldn't grab at him, touch him, or do anything else.

"Don't sit too close to my science stuff. And definitely don't breathe that shit in," Rick's tone was harsh as he spoke, "you wouldn't like the outcome."

"So," Gresharak's smile faded, her expression turning more serious, "I have been told that you are not well. How are you feeling now?"

Rick made a sharp irritated sound and folded his arms. "Yeah, no, don't even try to bait me. You said you wanted to ask shit about Morty, and you're asking about me right away? You don't get to do that. Instead, here's my reverse-ask - what makes you think I would have fallen for that? And how dare you even ask me that?! Seriously, NO."

Gresharak chuckled softly and began picking at the satchel attached to the belt on her side. After a moment, she pulled out a seed-cake that had been glued together with sugar syrup. She held it out for the other to take, not saying anything.

Rick stared at the food being offered to him and wasted no time snatching it up so he could bite off a huge chunk with his teeth. As he began chewing, he immediately decided that he didn't like the texture or the fact that the seeds still had their husks on them. Still, he wasn't about to turn down free food, especially when he was so hungry. "So you think the way to a man's heart is through his stomach? That's a pretty cheap tactic, you know."

Gresharak watched him for a moment before taking out more of the same seed blocks to feed to the hatchlings that were still very much attached to her back feathers. "No ulterior motive. You just looked like you could have done with some food. That should keep you sated until we are in my tree house."

"Thanks." Rick grunted, but it didn't come out politely. "So just get to the point already. What did you want to ask me about my grandson?" His mind began to race with all kinds of possibilities, but he decided to just shut up and let her talk.

Gresharak sighed this time, seeming a little sad. "I need to ask you, how difficult is it for your little one to settle while in your care?"

Rick was silent; he'd never really thought about it. However, he chose his answer carefully because he didn't want to risk getting into an involved discussion. "It's not a problem. W-why do you ask?"

"The one you call 'Birdperson' has brought him along to my house twice now and both times were because you have been completely incapacitated. I cannot fault you for that, but it would be beneficial to know what you do differently. Both times he has arrived in my tree house, his cries have been completely insatiable," the bird woman shook her head sadly, "he spent well over half of yesterday crying. He is a miserable little boy. We managed to calm him down and he was perfectly happy to play once he was quiet, but my spirit mate does not like him and finds him to be entirely disruptive to our family." She reached back to nuzzle the head of the first child she could reach. "But we don't think that of our little friend, now do we? No, we do not."

Rick watched her carefully, finding himself looking away and avoiding her eye contact after a short amount of time had passed. "To be completely honest with you, I don't really do anything differently. He just... does his thing." He shrugged, not really having any other way to explain it.

"I must be honest with you here. The one you call 'Birdperson' has told me of your situation in detail, so I will not pry. I do not want to make you upset." Gresharak's expression turned to one of sympathy. "But know this - I am no substitute. I am more than happy to take your hatchling when you have need of me to do so, but he needs you as he loves you dearly. Sometimes he cries like his life depends on getting back to you. He needs to stay with you for as long as he can because you seem to be one of the only happy fixtures in his world right now."

"I know." Rick's voice had become quiet as he lowered his head, his attention down on Morty. She wasn't telling him anything he already didn't know, but hearing it certainly wasn't making him feel any better. He sat there quietly, unwilling to say any more as he didn't want to participate in the conversation any longer. He looked over at the chemical pots and narrowed his eyes, wishing they would hurry up and finish so he could pack them up.

"If it makes you feel any better," Gresharak was watching Rick's face carefully now; his sadness was open enough to be obvious and she wanted to turn the subject back in a positive direction to cheer him up, "he has made great friends with my brood already. When he is not crying or asleep, he is more than happy to play with them. Even though he does not have feathers or wings, it does not slow him down. He does not even seem to think about it."

"Humans are adaptable." Rick forced himself to sound bored as he reached over to pick up his whiskey bottle. "If you're not born with it, y-you tend not to think about it." He pulled the cork off and a long swig from the bottle. "I have to s-stop you there because it's really impo-URRRPPtant - my name is Rick - just 'Rick'. Got it? I'm not telling you again." He would have added more to the statement, but the bundle of blankets had started to twitch in reaction to the loud burp he had just made. He moved his free arm around Morty and began to gently pat him, not really wanting him to wake up before he was ready to.

"Very well, Rick." Gresharak nodded as she watched him, and couldn't help but grin a little as she watched how gentle he was being with the sleeping child. "You may actually wish to wake him up soon. He has been asleep for most of the day, he is still recovering from the illness he had when he was handed over to me."

"He can stay down for all I care," Rick grumbled in reply, "I don't particularly want him jumping all over my science shit." He set the whiskey bottle aside and reached over to place the lids back on the chemical pots. "Speaking of which, where's your tree house? Fuck this shit, it's nearly done. I'll just follow you there and climb up. I assume you have an open area outside your front door, yeah?" He moved to his feet and began to pack everything back into the bag, noting that his lab coat was still damp from being used as a towel. He stuffed it down the bottom, making a mental note to dry it out later; it was his last clean one.

Gresharak watched him silently, a sly and devious grin coming over her face. Her flight pinions ruffled behind her back as she watched the small human pack up his things, and then she moved to her feet, extending her wings as if preparing for flight.

Rick glared back at her, not understanding what had come over her. Then he decided that he didn't care. He made sure that Morty was secure in the sling at his chest as he hauled the bag over his back. "W-well?" He huffed in irritation. "The reason I'm asking is because I can just finish the rest of the process there, p-provided your stupid-ass kids don't touch it, that is... if they drink the chemicals, they'll be dead within the hour." He made sure everything was secure one final time before glaring back at her again, not seeming to understand why she wasn't responding to him anymore. "Well? Say something. Give me some directions here, woman. I'm ready to go."

Without any warning whatsoever, Gresharak took two rushed steps at him, grab-tackling the smaller human around the chest, holding him firmly in both arms as she extended her wings to launch herself into the air. Within in three powerful flaps, she was soaring high above the trees.

Rick did NOT like what was happening to him; the tackle had also taken him entirely by surprise and she was holding onto him so hard that he could barely breathe. The moment he left the ground, he started yelling, flailing his legs in protest. "W-what the fuck, woman!? Are you fucking crazy!? P-put put me down! Some fucking warning next time, y-you crazy bitch!"

Gresharak only replied with another round of loud screechy laughter as she used her wings to pick up one of the many updrafts in the sky, soaring even higher. In almost no time at all, she had covered the entire distance back to the community of tree houses that her kind lived in. In another couple of sharp wing flaps, she landed down onto the landing of her own tree house. She wasted no time letting go of Rick, who stumbled back from her simply to get away again.

"Y-you're fucking crazy!" Rick snapped at her. "Just for that, you can deal with Morty while I set my shit up on your porch! He smells pretty bad so you can already guess what that means." He carefully pulled the cloth sling off his chest and handed it over with the bundle of blankets, though he was surprised that the youngster still hadn't woken up even through all the noise. "You owe me one for not telling me what you were going to do!"

Gresharak was laughing all over again as she took Morty into her arms, readily accepting him from the human. "Oh, that was worth it just to see your face." She cradled the sleeping bundle as she pushed the door open to her tree house, stepping inside.

"Stupid crazy-ass motherfucking bitch..." Rick muttered as he dumped his bag down on the landing. He wasted no time unpacking it again and pulled out a pair of blue nitrile gloves along with the two chemical pots. After pulling the gloves on with a rubbery snap, he unscrewed the first jar and very carefully removed the saturated circuit boards, checking them over to see if they were finished. Once he was satisfied with their progress, he dropped them straight into the second pot of solution. He clamped the lid on and shook it up, then set it off to the side.

"If anyone touches these things, I will fucking kick their ass..." He yanked the gloves off his hands and moved to his feet again, tossing them back into his bag. He kicked it out of the way and headed in the front door.

The scene inside had already erupted into pure chaos; the three hatchlings were now flying around the living room and using the furniture as launching pads. Their mother was already busy in another part of the house so they were taking advantage of the fact they had no supervision whatsoever.

Rick glared at them, already hating the amount of noise they were making. Part of him wanted to yell at them to shut up, but they weren't his responsibility or even his problem to deal with. He quickly decided he didn't care and stood near the front door, keeping out of their way.

One of the hatchlings landed nearby and reached out to grab at the leg cuff of his pants, pulling on it. "What is this? You wear funny clothes. You look funny." He told him very bluntly as he stared up at him. "You do not even have feathers."

Rick bared his teeth down at the male hatchling. "H-how would you like to play a game? It's called 'Your Ass, My Foot'. Touch me again and I'll let you play as many times as you want, you little piece of shit!" He folded his arms. "Now go away and leave me alone."

The hatchling didn't seem in the slightest bit phased and ran across the floor to resume chasing his siblings.

Gresharak came out of the back room a few moments later, carrying a very sleepy Morty, who was now awake and resting comfortably against her, snuggled into her feathers. She carried him straight into the kitchen and began to finish cooking the food she had started hours ago, stirring it with a spoon in her free hand. Although it was nearly finished, it needed some final touches.

Rick observed the scene closely and stayed out of the way; he seemed content that Morty was so quiet in her company. Although it annoyed him that he had been dressed in traditional bird-people clothing, he supposed it had to be expected by this point. He didn't stay at his position near the front door for much longer, though; Morty would see to that.

Morty had already seen Rick and started making loud noises as he called out to him. He began flailing his limbs and trying to climb right over the top of the bird-woman, wanting to be in his grandfather's company over hers.

"Hah," Gresharak said in amusement, not bothering to look up, "somebody wants to say hello to you."

"Y-yeah, it would seem that way." Rick moved off the wall and headed into the kitchen. "Hey there, little buddy, how are you feeling?" He reached out to pick the youngster up, firmly yet gently holding him in his arms. "You were asleep all day, right? Does that mean you're going to keep me up all night with your bullshit?" Despite his words, he was grinning. "Just kidding, I don't have a sleeping pattern anyway."

Morty squealed with happiness and hugged onto his grandfather's arm, holding onto it as hard as he could, indicating he wasn't about to let him go again anytime soon.

Without looking up from the stove, Gresharak smiled as she listened to the conversation taking place. "It would seem that somebody has missed you." She was quiet for a moment. "Remember what I told you."

"I know what you said, y-you you don't have to repeat it." Rick frowned back at her. As he stepped back from the kitchen, he could already smell the aromas coming from the pot on the stove and his stomach reacted by growling at him. He retreated to the couch in the living room and just sat there while the bird woman's children jumped all over the room around him. He simply kept his attention on Morty, not even seeming to flinch when one of the flying children crashed straight into his shoulder.

Now that Morty was calm and in the company of his grandfather again, he was confident enough to let curiosity begin taking over. He clumsily wiggled out of Rick's arms and pushed himself off the couch, landing with an abrupt thump onto the floor below. It didn't seem to worry him, though, and he got to his feet, clumsily chasing after the nearest hatchling he could get his hands on, squealing to get her attention. He liked trying to grab their feathers and pull them out if he could get close enough. He had no concept of the idea that doing something like that would hurt, it was just another fun game to him.

Rick just sat back and watched, rubbing his forehead. Although he was happy to see his grandson running around and playing with the other children, he didn't appreciate the level of noise in the room at all. His back was still itching like crazy and his hunger had developed past the point of starving; he started to feel dizzy and fatigued. None of these factors were helping his mood and he put his head down, closing his eyes, sighing. He didn't want to be there; he wanted to get back to work. But he needed food badly, and Morty was having fun so he didn't want to deny him that. It had been too long since he had seen the kid so genuinely happy.

"Your little one has already been fed, you do not have to worry about him right now. Take care of yourself." Gresharak stood over him, holding a large bowl of soup she had just made. She set it down on the table in front of Rick, offering him a smile. "Here, eat this. Are you OK?"

"To be perfectly honest with you," Rick opened his eyes again and sat up to pick up the bowl, his voice quiet and resigned, "I-I'm pretty fucking far from OK." He picked up the bowl and took the spoon out, taking a moment to examine what he was about to eat. It was soupy mush and fairly close to what he had been fed the other day. He knew he would get sick of eating the same thing before too long, but right now, food was food.

Gresharak simply stood back. She had felt the pain in that statement and looked back at him with gentle sympathy on her face. Part of her just wanted to pull him up into her arms and hug him, but she had already figured out that he was the stand-offish type and likely wouldn't appreciate it. She opened her mouth to say something, only to be distracted by the sound of books falling out of the bookcase at the other end of her living room.

"What are you doing, child!?" She hurriedly stepped away to begin chasing her children, her tone swinging to motherly and authoritative in an instant. "We do not jump on the furniture, children! Get off that at once!"

Rick was quiet again as he watched the others. He wasted no time shoveling the food straight into his mouth; this time it had grain and a few other ingredients that he couldn't identify through the mushy texture. He didn't know what they were and didn't even care if they were bugs or worms this time; he was hungry enough to eat anything.

"Oh, how rude of me. I never did introduce my children to you." Gresharak turned around in the sudden realization of her words. She picked up the first one and walked over to the couch with him, smiling as he tried to climb up onto her head. "This is Flitarak, my eldest. He's turning three in the next complete moon phase."

"Don't care." Rick replied with his mouth full, swallowing after a moment. He shoved another spoonful into his mouth and resumed eating. He was already starting to feel better.

"The other two are fraternal twins," the bird woman continued, pointing down at the others as she indicated to them, "we were fortuitous enough to have two eggs that breeding season. They are Parsharah and Lakkarah and are male and female, respectively. Keep a close eye on them if you see them in your travels, as they like to escape the tree house and go missing. They are not strong fliers yet and they are still small enough to risk being eaten by predators."

"Again, d-don't care." Rick dropped the spoon on his lap and picked up the bowl with both hands, drinking the rest of the contents. He set it back down on the coffee table and a loud burp erupted from his mouth. "Well, it isn't what I'm used to eating, b-but it will fill the hole for a while. T-thanks, I guess." He moved to his feet, his attention on the door.

"You do not wish to stay here any longer?" Gresharak watched him carefully, her attention glued to his face as if it would give away anything of what he was feeling right now.

"Nope." Rick replied with a shrug, seeing no reason to lie. "I still have too much to do." He jumped slightly as Morty crash tackled his legs and he bent down to retrieve him from the floor; it was convenient because it meant he didn't have to go chasing after him. "Once I have that stuff outside finished, we can do anything we want to... the multiverse becomes my plaything." He headed out the front door and set Morty down so he could pack up his things again; the lid needed to stay closed on the second chemical pot, so it could be done anywhere he felt like it.

Gresharak followed him outside and stood in the doorway, her huge frame almost blocking the space entirely. "Where will you go?"

"Away from here." The answer was blunt and short as he scowled back at her. She was asking too many questions for his liking. He didn't want to be there anymore and now that he had food in his belly, he had no reason to be there any longer.

"You know, you can come back to the house anytime you wish," the feathers on the bird woman's head were ruffled again, and although her tone was gentle and motherly, she seemed concerned; she didn't want him to leave. "Bring your little one back anytime; it is a privilege to care for him in your absence."

"Whatever..." Rick grunted as he placed Morty into the sling, checking him a second time to make sure he was secure. He hauled the bag onto his back and peered down over the edge of the landing, spotting a rope ladder nearby - perfect. "Thanks for feeding me, by the way. I'll have to stop taking advantage of your charity at some point, and..." he paused, his voice tired and fed up, "I kind of owe you now, f-fuck it. So I'll build you some science shit or something, whatever you want. If you need anything done, you already know how to find me." He stepped off the landing and then began to climb down the rope ladder. After a moment, he had disappeared out of sight altogether.

Gresharak watched him go, completely silent. She shook her head sadly; she hadn't wanted him to leave so soon, but he had been so adamant about it. She simply lingered on the landing, listening to him climb down the ladder, making sure he was safely on the ground before heading back towards the door.

She didn't get much further, though.

After another moment, Birdperson landed hard on the landing. He had been watching vigilantly from his own tree house and now that Rick was gone, he wanted to talk. His attention was immediately fixed on the bird woman and he waved a hand to get her attention. "I see you found him out there. Thank you for retrieving him from the wilderness and thank you for feeding him for me."

"It is no problem." Gresharak said dismissively as she turned to grin at her neighbor. "He has a very abrasive personality and his language is positively embarrassing to listen to, but his heart is genuine and I enjoyed finally getting to meet him. I can see why you would consider him to be such a dear friend," she quickly added, "also, his child is adorable."

"Yes, well," Birdperson shrugged, not wanting to chat. He wanted to know the answers to his most pressing questions. "Did you get the chance to talk to him? Did he say much to you? Did you get him to listen?"

"He didn't seem to want to talk, and I did not want to push him because he is in great pain. You can see it in his eyes. He also gives himself away." Gresharak said, her tone becoming sad. "But I think he will be all right. He needs time."

"I will be much happier to leave him on his own once he returns to normal." Birdperson said in his calm monotone voice. "I am not sure what to think at the moment."

"You were right to worry. But he seems driven like he still has purpose. As long as he still has the child with him, he will have something to focus on. See that they stay together, yes? He may never fully recover from what has happened to him, but he needs contact with friends and loved ones." Gresharak's tone had become thoughtful as she expressed her opinion. "He also needs time alone."

"I am not willing to give him that at the moment," Birdperson replied simply, "I have damaged our friendship, but his life is worth more than that."

"You need to give him the chance." She told him. "Nothing will fix itself until you give that back to him."

"I do not want to leave him out there by himself." Birdperson explained his feelings with no emotion whatsoever in his voice. He knew he was repeating himself, but there was no other way he could put it.

Gresharak shrugged at him. "You have to be willing to try."


	7. Full Ricksclosure

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights: ** I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.

 **NOTE:** Average sized chapter this time. A lot of this was in Chapter 6 initially, but it was swapped around. This is the end result. Enjoy! Fixed and beta read for grammar.

* * *

 **Chapter 7 – Full Ricksclosure**

 **November 21st, 8:15pm Local Time, 2001  
** **Birdperson's Tree House  
** **Bird World, Dimension Unknown**

* * *

Rick returned to Birdperson's tree house just after sundown; spending the remaining daylight hours with Morty and getting his circuit boards finished had been more important to him than returning home. Climbing back up the tree was a lot harder than he remembered and it had to be done with even more care than usual with the grumbling youngster in the sling tied around him. Once he was back up on the landing to Birdperson's tree house, he made a mental note to install a rope ladder at some point; it had been practical back at the other house. He hesitated before pushing the door open as he still wasn't in a decent enough mood to talk just yet. Even though he'd accomplished pretty much everything he'd wanted to do today, his mind was already moving ahead through the next steps of the building process and he knew it wouldn't stop until it was finished.

He shrugged after a moment, deciding that he didn't care what might happen. He shoved the door open and stepped inside.

Birdperson looked up from the couch; he had been patiently waiting for Rick's return and was debating the possibility of having to fly out and retrieve him from his hiding place. Although he was pleased that he didn't have to do that now, he didn't get up or change his expression.

"Rick. We need t-"

"No. We don't need to do anything right now, and for the time being I'm done with you, so fuck off!" Rick's sharp reply was dispensed instantly as he cut Birdperson off. He walked past him in a quickened pace and headed for the spare nest room again, noting that the pile of debris he had left in the hallway had been completely removed. He slammed the door behind him, making a point of expressing the fact that he was still very bitter. As he stepped into the middle of the room, his first observation was that his pile of dirty laundry had been cleaned and folded in neat piles on top of his cot. He would have been more annoyed about that but it meant that Morty finally had some of his own clothes back.

Meanwhile, Morty was bored; he had a short attention span and resumed his frustrated wiggling in the sling because he wanted to move. He flailed his arms, whacking Rick in the chest, making loud demanding noises up at him. He had been confined the entire climb up the tree and now that it was over, he was quite fed up of being there.

Rick took the cue and took Morty out of the sling, placing him down on the ground. "Shut up, kiddo... I'm really starting to get tired of your shit." He stepped over to the work table and dumped his bag down on top of it, removing both chemical pots and the other things he had stored in there. He packed the first pot away and then the second. He dropped both circuit boards on the desk in front of him, pleased that they were finally complete and ready for hand loading components onto. His eyes fell on the old portal gun fragments at the back corner of the desk and he reached over to pick them up, only to dump them back down directly in front of him.

Morty followed his grandfather straight across the room and bumped straight into his leg, hugging onto it. "R-rii!" He announced with particular firmness.

Rick looked down at him, then pulled up the chair so he could sit down. "Yeah yeah, buddy, I know you're saying my name. Look, settle down, huh? I'm not going anywhere. I actually need to work for the next couple of hours." He reached down to pick Morty up, placing him into his lap. He spread the portal gun pieces across the workspace and arranged them in the rough order that correlated to each part if the device had still been intact. Now that he had the time, he wanted to work out just how much he could salvage. He picked up a flat-bladed screwdriver and began using it to lever the broken casing off one of the larger fragments.

Morty sat back and curiously watched his grandfather working. He vaguely recognized the parts; they were the same color as the weird thing that Rick had told him he wasn't allowed to touch. He was content to sit there quietly and not interfere, just happy to be back in the company of his favorite person.

"Y-you're a good kid, Morty." Rick told him after a minute. He set the broken fragment down on the table along with the screwdriver, then reached down to pat the little boy on the head, relieved to see that he was finally feeling like his old self again. "The last couple of days have been a really rocky road for the both of us, huh? I think you came out of it better than I did. It's nice to get back to the basics." He reached over to pull his bottle of whiskey from the bag and set it down on the table. "If you can sit there and behave yourself for once, you can stay as long as you want."

Morty leaned into Rick's chest, resting the side of his head right up against his sternum. He could hear his grandfather's slow, steady heartbeat and it was calming for him to listen to.

Rick took his quietness as a sign of consent and resumed what he was doing. He picked up the handle of his old portal gun and examined it closely. "If anything from this stupid device survived, it means I don't have to redesign it from scratch... s-should have done that in the first place, but everything else got in the way..." He muttered aloud to himself as he used his ionic soldering gun to extract the battery and held it up to the light, glad to discover that it was completely intact.

"Oh-ho, hell yeah!" He cheered, genuinely pleased. Although his old portal gun quickly drained its battery while it was on, it was better than nothing; it also meant that he didn't have waste more even more time acquiring another.

Morty looked up at his grandfather, grinning at his sudden outburst. He pulled himself onto his feet with one hand and reached up to grab at his hair with the other.

"Be careful where you put your feet, Morty. I don't want you to stand on anything important to me." Rick remained still while he looked down at his grandson, not wanting him to fall off. "You know what this means?" He began idly playing with the battery in his fingers. "It means we can move this along a little faster, which means we can finally get off this damn planet and do something useful with ourselves. Once we have the new portal gun together, I'll have to show you some of the interesting places I like to visit."

Morty had no idea what he was talking about. He didn't care either, because Rick's hair spikes were far more interesting than anything he had to say. He immediately snatched at the first one he could grab and began to pull on it as hard as he could.

Rick winced in response; it had hurt. He gently set the battery aside and put his hands around Morty's chest, returning him to the floor. "Y-yeah that's enough. You're bored, huh? It's too quiet in here, let's put some music on or something..." The scientist quickly turned around in the chair and began to rummage through the bottom drawers at the right side of the work table. He found a small CD player and pulled it out, slamming it down onto the desk. He plugged it in and was pleased to discover that it still worked. "Hell yeah, this shit keeps getting better!"

Morty watched with intense curiosity. Although he was unhappy about being put down, he ran around the other side of the chair to get a better look at the new object. He reached up in the attempt to grab at it, figuring that it was something new to play with.

Rick smirked down at the little kid, amused by his enthusiasm. He pulled out one of the many CDs that had been in the drawer and popped it into the player, turning the music up high; even though the appliance was small, the sound it made was loud enough to completely drown out any normal conversation.

"You hear that, buddy?" Rick loudly spoke over the blaring noise, a wide grin across his face. "That's called a beat, motherfucker! Pure fucking awesome! Yeahhh, that's what I'm talking about!" He picked up his ionic soldering gun and pried apart the next portal gun piece for salvage, nodding his head in time to the music.

Morty watched his grandfather's strange behavior with wonder and awe. He wasn't quite old enough to understand music entirely yet, but it was certainly enough to captivate his interest. He grabbed at Rick's pant leg and began loudly whining as he pulled on the fabric, wanting to be back up in his lap.

Rick started singing along to the music as he pulled apart the damaged circuit-board fragment. He discarded part of it across the desk because it was beyond salvageable. In the same movement he picked Morty up and deposited him back in his lap, resuming where he had left off. Now that his mind was back in the things he enjoyed, his mood had already started to pick back up.

Morty settled down again relatively quickly. He couldn't work out why his grandfather was behaving in such a strange manner, but his positive energy was making him happy. He began to clumsily nod his head, imitating what Rick was doing.

"Oh, you like that, buddy?" Rick chuckled as he reached across to turn the volume knob all the way to the top. "I should get out the guitar later and play some shit for you. We used to play such utter garbage, it's actually embarrassing to think about it... I can do so much better now. Sometimes it was derivative, but people ate it up like it was the best thing in the universe." He threw a fragment of portal gun casing across the table, no longer needing it. "Some people have no fucking taste!" He paused for a moment to laugh, then got straight back into it.

Rick continued to work through the evening and late into the night. Morty fell asleep in his lap, not at all bothered by the loud music. Because the volume was up so high, Rick didn't hear the knocking sound at the door and kept on working, completely engrossed in what he was doing. He didn't notice Birdperson walk into the room, nor did he notice he was even there until the other male was standing beside him, his hand on the CD player appliance cord. He pulled it out of the wall socket and the room went silent.

"What the hell!?" Rick looked up in the same instant the sound cut out, glaring hard up at Birdperson. With the look he was giving him now, he could have easily gone into a murderous rage. "What's the big fucking deal? Why'd you turn off my jams?"

"It is getting late, Rick. Your music is disturbing the neighborhood community." Birdperson's tone was calm and he simply stood there, holding the appliance cord in his hand. He hadn't wanted to come in at all and he knew that disturbing Rick wasn't going to do him any favors, so he promptly explained the reason for doing so. "Two of my neighbors came to my door just now to complain to me."

"I don't give a shit what they think!" Rick spat back at him as he reached out to snatch the appliance cord away. "You don't get to tell me what to do anymore!" He sounded much more like a rebellious teenager than an adult as he used his free hand to point hard at the doorway. "Get the fuck out of my room before I kick your ass!"

Birdperson shook his head as he departed the room again, shutting the door behind him.

Rick wasted no time plugging the CD player back in, though he adjusted the volume to a much more acceptable level this time. "Fucking little bitch..." He growled aloud to himself, needing a moment to calm down before he picked up the soldering gun again. He frowned as he suddenly felt a warm patch of wetness growing across his left pant leg and looked down, deeply scowling as he realized that Morty was peeing on him in his sleep; his diaper had been soaked and the excess was leaking straight through onto Rick's clothing.

"Ah, come on, not again! This is bullshit! Why do you keep doing this to me?" Although he was annoyed, he couldn't get too angry about it; this one was on him. He had been far too involved in work to have been paying attention to Morty's upkeep. He simply put his hands under the little kid's arms and picked him up, carrying him over to the floor. After laying him down on his back, he began stripping off all of his clothes; he had been meaning to remove the stupid Bird World native attire from him anyway.

Morty made small, fussing noises in protest; the floor was cold and he didn't want to be woken back up. He didn't seem to care what was happening to him though; he just hadn't wanted to be moved.

"Shut up. Just... shut up." Rick hissed at him as he reached under the table to grab a fresh diaper out from the box and then went about the task ahead with haste, hating every second of it. After it was done, he placed the unwanted articles of clothing into a pile on the floor away from the chair, making a mental note to dispose of it all as quickly as possible; he certainly didn't want to give it back and risk getting into another conversation with the obnoxiously loud bird woman again.

He carried Morty over to the cot and set him down, covering him up with the blankets. "Just... stay there. And don't piss in my bed." He huffed at him, still very much annoyed. "I'm probably going to work through the night, so go back to sleep. I'm going through a particularly productive streak right now and I don't want to break it."

Morty made a small noise in response and curled up. He was comfortable and warm, and drifted off again in no time at all.

Rick sat back down at the chair and kicked the box under the desk for good measure, wanting to dissipate some of his anger. In the sharp movement, something large and metallic bounced out and rolled across the floor. Rick had to narrow his eyes at the sound; he certainly didn't remember packing anything into it that would sound even remotely like that.

What he saw on the ground made him stop dead in his tracks; there was a large unopened can of baby formula on its side where it had fallen next to the box. He quickly reached down to pick it up, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he examined it, his mind racing with all kinds of theories as to how it could have gotten there. The can was completely sealed and brand new; it looked like it had been picked straight from a grocery shelf and could have easily lasted Morty more than a month if he rationed it out properly.

"What the hell...?" His eyes widened in disbelief as he placed it on the desk. Now he wanted to know what else was in there and upended the whole box onto its side, discovering that it had been stuffed full with all kinds of baby supplies like bottles, a large quantity of clothing, and entire packs of diapers.

"What the fuck?!" Rick continued to stare at the items that had come out of the box, but couldn't work out how it had gotten there. In another moment, his bewilderment had shifted towards anger and he was at the door, yelling into the hallway.

"Birdperson! W-what the fuck are you playing at?! I-is this meant to be some kind of joke?" He stepped back from the door, arms folded across his chest. He didn't particularly want to see Birdperson again so soon, but he needed an explanation.

Birdperson moved up the hallway again, silently standing outside the door. When he realized that Rick was staring back at him expectantly, he took a singular tentative step into the room to stand beside him, not really wanting the other male's temper to flare up again.

"Well?" Rick sharply growled at him, his expression a mix between utter confusion and anger. "What the hell is this? Are you fucking with me right now?" He nodded in the direction of the pile on the floor.

Birdperson took a moment to assess what he talking about, only to conclude that he didn't know what was going on either. "No, Rick. I am not."

"Oh, is that so? Are you serious? How the fuck did this all get here, then?!" Rick's arms were frantically flailing as he motioned to the pile on the floor beside his chair. "Where did you get this stuff, a-and why the hell were you holding out on me until now? Shitty timing by the way, it sure would have been a hell of a lot more useful a couple of days ago!"

"This is not my doing." Birdperson said plainly as he looked around the room. He stared at the mess on the floor, then at the small electrical components scattered across the table. "You will need to reorganize your inventory."

"O-oh go fuck yourself, Birdperson!" Rick retorted, having taken the other man's words as an insult. "Seriously though, you're not dicking around with me, right?" His eyes were staring expectantly at Birdperson now, trying to read his expression for any hint that might answer his question. "This... t-this wasn't you?" His anger dissipated and confusion had set back in over his mind.

Birdperson slowly shook his head. "No." He would have offered more, but couldn't understand the situation either. He was just relieved that Rick was willing to talk to him again.

Rick's brows furrowed and he was suddenly deep in thought, silent. He took a moment to scratch at his back again, his attention down on the hoard. He stepped across the room and crouched down beside the pile, idly flicking a hand through the stack of baby clothes and packs of diapers, instantly recognizing the branding; they were the same kind of diapers that Beth would have bought for Morty if she had picked them up from her local grocery store.

"If you didn't do this... then how the hell did this stuff get here?" He sat heavily in the chair and leaned forwards as he stared at the can of baby formula again, trying to rack his brains for any kind of logical explanation. Now that he thought about it, there was no way that Birdperson could have obtained any of these things for him; he didn't know much about his species to begin with, let alone where to get baby supplies from. He didn't even know what humans ate most of the time and had needed help from his neighbor just to work out how to feed them.

"It honestly looks like something that you would have brought with you through the portal." Birdperson suggested as he followed Rick's gaze to the foreign object on the table. "It is not something that one would expect to find on Bird World."

"Portal..." Rick said thoughtfully through the bombardment of questions running through his head, his voice distant. He sat back up in the chair as his mind returned him to reality, his gaze locked on Birdperson again. "Earlier this morning, what made you think I had finished my portal gun already?" Although the question came out rather suddenly, he desperately had to know the answer. "You know I haven't finished it, I-I haven't fucking shut up about it the entire time I've been here!"

"Yes, now that you mention it, I did find that strange." Birdperson nodded slightly as he continued watching the other. He had seen it many times before, but watching Rick think his way through something had always intrigued him. It was definitely better than being on the receiving end of his anger yet again. "As I said to you when I first saw you in the kitchen, I had assumed you finished it because I saw the green light under your door after you finally agreed to take the medicine I had made for you. The source of that light has only ever come from one place and that is your portal gun. It is completely unique. It could not have been mistaken for anything else."

Rick was silent as he listened through Birdperson's explanation. His eyes widened suddenly in the realization that there was only one other kind of person that had access to portal gun technology - and that was himself.

He had always suspected that other versions of himself existed, and the day he had finally cracked the equation behind generating coordinates to different dimensions had been a very defining moment in his life. Even though his first quantum multidimensional portal device was a clunky piece of garbage and far too heavy to be portable, the very fact it existed and worked had proven what he already knew.

He knew that other Ricks existed. There were many of them in different dimensions, living on their own dimensional timelines, just like him. The idea of meeting a parallel version of himself had been an appealing thought at first; the chance to talk to another whose intellect matched his own was an appealing and exciting prospect. However, none of the encounters with other Ricks had ended well; they either treated him indifferently, tried to beat him up, or wanted to argue because they were complete assholes, just like himself. A couple of the Ricks had gotten defensive and territorial about the impostor in their dimension and tried to kill him; he promptly left those ones alone, never to return. The least hostile encounter with a Rick had ended in the other one simply telling him not to interfere with another Rick's timeline, as it wasn't good conduct. He had learned through this encounter that most Ricks generally didn't interact with each other and that they had a strict non-interference code. After that, he returned to his own native dimension and stopped trying to seek them out; if they didn't want to be disturbed, then neither did he. But all of that had happened a long time ago and he hadn't bothered to seek any other Ricks out since then.

He simply couldn't fathom why it would be happening now.

If it had been a Rick who had jumped into his dimension to deliver the box of goods, he was very much interfering and there had to be a good reason behind it. Rick began to wonder what kind of motives the other Rick might have, and then he began to wonder if the other Rick was intending to target him, or worse, kill him. He knew far too much information for it to have been an act of random kindness - Ricks simply didn't do that because they were assholes.

He concluded that the box of goods was clearly a calculated move with purpose.

Rick realized he must have looked rather concerning by now, because Birdperson was openly staring at him. He didn't care about that however, and his attention shifted back and forth from the window to the open doorway. He didn't know where the other Rick was, but he already felt uneasy; the box of goods meant that the other Rick knew exactly what was going on. It was a very clear message: he was being watched. The other Rick must have known he was running low on supplies, but he simply wouldn't accept the fact that there was any positive motive behind being given everything he needed; he was almost positively certain it had been done just to fuck with him.

It was certainly working.

Birdperson watched him carefully, not finding his continued silence particularly reassuring. "What is wrong, Rick?"

Rick didn't answer. He knew there was no point in running; if he was being watched then the other Rick would more than likely know where to find him no matter where he fled. He leaned forward in the chair and put his head down onto the table; the thought of the Galactic Federation tracking him to the ends of the universe was bad enough, but at least he could escape that because they didn't have access to multidimensional portal technology. If another Rick was watching and wanted him, all he could do was wait for them to arrive and fight back. He wasn't even able to do that with much effectiveness anymore either because he'd given up all his guns; they were either broken or completely inaccessible to him right now.

"Rick?" Birdperson was standing near the chair now. He wanted to help but knew things were still sour between them. He simply stood there, not knowing what else to do. "If there is any way I can assist you, please tell me."

Rick finally sat up again after a couple more moments of silence, looking back up in Birdperson's direction, his brows creased in guilt and worry. Despite everything he had said and done to him, the guy was still trying to help him and he felt terrible. He wasn't even sure if there was any point explaining the situation to the other, Birdperson probably wouldn't know how to handle it anyway. Rick also found himself worrying that if Birdperson did interfere, the other Rick would possibly harm or kill him if he was feeling particularly malevolent and he didn't want that at all. He simply didn't know what another Rick might do to him, because the only predictable thing about other Ricks was that they were completely unpredictable.

There was no point running, there was no point in doing anything. His expression became completely unreadable as he suppressed his fear and worries; there was little else he could do.

"Can you please just... get out." Rick said finally, his voice quiet. "I-I... I need to be alone for a while."

Birdperson nodded his head once. He had wanted to say so much more, but he respected Rick's wishes and left him be. He silently departed through the door again, closing it behind him.

After he heard the door shut, Rick returned his attention back to the can of baby formula; even though its mere presence was doing his head in, he was glad to have it there to use. Even if he did finish the portal gun, he was sure he could be tracked, no matter which dimension he escaped to. And if the other Rick wanted him dead, it was only a matter of time.

He made a loud sigh and put his head back, staring up at the ceiling; so many conflicting thoughts all at once, and worse; he still had to do something about Birdperson because it was nagging heavy guilt in his mind now. He had been abrasive and completely unfair to his friend and it had been going on far too long for him to tolerate it anymore. He had absolutely no idea how to come back and apologize to him; he'd never been any good at that. If there was another Rick coming after him, Birdperson might be the only one who could make any useful attempt at trying to protect him.

Rick moved to his feet and picked up the whiskey bottle he had been busy with over the last couple of days; he had to fix things again. He also knew that if he was ever going to have a chance at breaking through his own pride and ego to say all the things he needed to say, he would have to be very, very drunk. He pulled the cork off the bottle and quickly downed the remaining contents. Once that one was empty, he got started on the second one.

So much for rationing it.

* * *

Birdperson was asleep when the drunken human stumbled into his room. He was a light sleeper at the best of times and so when he heard the first footsteps in his immediate surroundings, he was already awake enough be aware of everything that was happening. He heard three more steps shuffling towards his nest-bed and he sat up, turning his bedside light on, immediately turning his attention towards the intruder.

Rick stood there, his body swaying uncoordinatedly. He furrowed his brows in discomfort and his eyes blinked independently of one another in reaction to the sudden difference of light. "Heeeey..." He managed to slur out, taking another step forward, promptly falling over his own feet, landing flat on his face. He managed to keep the bottle steady though, not spilling any of the contents as he went down.

"Rick, why are you still awake?" Birdperson asked, though he wasn't the slightest bit annoyed to have been woken up. He continued to watch Rick carefully, and he wasn't at all surprised when he saw him go down. He could already smell the heavy stench of alcohol in the air surrounding him and immediately knew what was going on. "Have you been drinking again?" He already knew the answer, but asked anyway.

"Mmm... m-maybe a little." Rick's reply came from the floor.

"On a scale of one to ten," Birdperson peered over the edge of the bed, his attention on the few, powdery-blue hair spikes he could see, "how inebriated are you right now?"

"N-nine-nn-nineteen." Rick's answer was rather abrupt as he pushed himself back up onto his feet. He took another swig from the whiskey bottle before stumbling ahead again, falling face-first down onto the nest-bed, his head landing next to Birdperson's feet.

Birdperson was used to seeing Rick blind drunk like this and the behavior almost always had good reasoning behind it. He was quiet as he tried to work it out, though he quickly concluded that it could be one of many reasons right now.

"N-not like it's not a big deal..." Rick told him suddenly, "I c-can stop anytime I want."

"Perhaps you should go back to bed, Rick." Birdperson suggested. "It is the middle of the night."

"Sh-shut up. Don't... d-don't tell me what to do." Rick's reply was automatic. He turned his head to the side as the entire room swayed around him, and then he decided he was too incapacitated to attempt standing up again in the immediate. "You're... you're my good buddy, Bir-UUUURRRGGGGGperson." He coughed for a moment after that burp. "Are... aren't you?"

"Yes, Rick." Birdperson replied, his voice calm. "At least, I assume we are still friends."

"Hell... h-hell yeah we are!" Rick raised the whiskey bottle in an uncoordinated toasting gesture. "You're... you're my b-best friend, Birdperson... y-you... y-you know that, right?" He hiccuped softly. "I... I-I'm really sorry about my r-recent conduct, I've been a real dick to you in the l-last couple of days." His brows creased in heavy regret. "F-fuck..." He had hoped that getting drunk would numb some of his emotions, but right now they were all over the place. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hide them or to be open in his apology to the other, but quickly realized that he was too far gone to even bother trying.

"While I will not disagree with you," Birdperson paused, carefully choosing his next words, "you had your reasons. I am sure everything is still raw. You will adjust to your new situation in time. You are adaptable and you always have been."

"Th... t-thanks for the vote of confidence, but," Rick made a failed attempt at trying to sit up. He rolled off the bed and crashed onto the floor. "Most of the time I'm just... just fucking around, p-pull... pulling it out of my ass."

Birdperson sat up properly this time and peered over the bed to make sure that Rick hadn't hurt himself, relaxing a little when he saw that he was perfectly fine. "Get off the floor, Rick. It is not comfortable down there."

"F-fuck how I'm feeling," Rick's reply was rather sharp and annoyed, "wh-what about you?"

"I am fine, Rick." Birdperson's response was plain and monotone. "Perhaps you will be too once you stand up again."

Rick forced himself to his feet, his entire body swaying as he stood there, trying to maintain his balance. "Hah, good one!" He seemed to be having a hard time focusing his eyes anywhere ahead of himself, but he stared back at the other, his expression stubbornly determined. "Full disclosure, BP... I-I'm not fine, and n-nothing is-is ever going to be the same again... a couple of days ago, I was fine, but..."

Rick drunkenly stumbled back across to the bed, heavily sitting down on it. He launched straight into his rambling drunken story in great detail, even though he knew he had already given Birdperson the abridged version. He slurred his words out as he told Birdperson about the park, about the stupid sandpit candy incident, and then the appearance of small Federation ships in the sky; first five, then nine, then too many to count, his mind being able to recall every vivid detail because it would be burned into his long-term memory forever, no matter how drunk he was. He told him about running and being shot at, about shooting back at them, and then the appearance of the Galactic Federation Capital Mothership in the sky, and then finally about the moment he'd resigned to the fact that he was going to lose everything. He started to choke up as he told Birdperson about Beth's car collision with the Federation ship and then the vitrification beam, but he kept himself together and drank more whiskey. He was a little surprised that he hadn't completely lost it this time; it was still so raw in his mind and it still very much hurt, but being completely smashed had somehow helped him to keep it together.

Birdperson was quiet through the entire explanation in the concern that saying anything would make him stop; he had been wanting Rick to talk about this since he had gotten here. He simply sat there when the other was done, the reason behind Rick's behavior suddenly making complete sense to him; he had needed to unload onto somebody and being drunk was the only way he could do it without inhibition.

"Don't... d-don't think it changes anything about me, BP. I'm still the same guy," Rick's voice was suddenly firm, "all it means is that... is that w-when I get the portal gun back, I'm going to have to get back out there and f-fuck up their shit so hard, they become extinct." He shook his head, deeply irritated all over again. "H-have to return the favor, y-you know?"

Birdperson nodded in understanding; of course Rick wanted revenge. He was sure that he would have wanted the same thing if he had been in similar circumstances.

"F-furthermore," Rick continued, having decided that he wanted to launch straight into his next concern right away, "y-you... you can stop worrying about me, OK?"

Birdperson was silent again; he was sure that if he said anything, he would distract Rick from his thoughts.

"I me... m-mean it, buddy..." Rick placed his right hand on the bed beside him to keep his balance, his attention on the door. "S-s-s... s-stop worrying about me. I'm sorry for... f-for the last couple of days." He set the bottle of whiskey down beside him on the bed, his left hand still firmly grasped around the neck. "I-I've been a real jerk to you..."

"It's fine, Rick." Birdperson told him as he lightly shrugged his shoulders.

"No-no, It's NOT fine!" Rick's voice was harsh in his reply. "You... y-you took us in when we had nothing. By us, I-I mean... my little buddy and me, Mmm-Morty." He picked up the whiskey bottle and took another couple of swigs from it. "A-and what did I do? I-I was an asshole about it. I... I'm really sorry, Birdperson..."

"You have already been forgiven, Rick." Birdperson told him, his voice remaining calm. "To be honest with you, I am relieved that we are still friends in spite of everything. I did not want to take your guns away from you but the alternative would have been worse. You need to understand that your life is more valuable than you think it is."

"Y-yeah, I know," Rick conceded rather quickly to that statement, "y-you were right to take them away. Y-y-you were just looking out for me..." He lowered his head, his voice breaking up again as he felt a deep sadness come over him. "God, w-why is everything so fucked up...?"

Birdperson was silent again; he didn't have an answer to that.

"Y-you don't have to worry about me..." Rick was becoming annoyed with himself; this was still very hard for him to talk about even though he was completely wasted. "I'm not... I'm not going to..." He shook his head as he fought through his own desire to shut down, "I-I'm not going to kill myself i-if that's what you're worried about. I just..." He went quiet again.

"You just what, Rick?" Birdperson hadn't wanted to say anything, but noticed he was stalling and wanted him to finish it.

"I just... needed you to know that." Rick leaned heavily to his right side, promptly falling off the side of the bed, his limbs splaying out around him. He didn't even feel it and casually raised the whiskey bottle up keep it from spilling. "I-I'm not OK. B-but know that I'm not going to do anything. N-not going to happen... I have too much shit to do, Morty needs s-somebody to take care of him, and then there's b-bureaucra-UUUURPts to blow up. So s-stop worrying about it." He looked up at the ceiling, but quickly decided it was easier to stay down than risk getting up again; the room was spinning and he was starting to feel quite nauseated. He knew he had completely overdone it, but he still didn't care.

"I am glad to hear it, Rick." Birdperson told him. "You need to take care of yourself and be aware of the fact that your situation is only temporary. It is not like you to resort to a permanent solution to a temporary problem."

"D-doesn't matter what I do f-from here out, anyway..." Rick lifted his arm up, raising the whiskey bottle up to slosh it around, his eyes having trouble tracking the contents. "I-I'm a dead man."

"What do you mean, Rick?" Birdperson was a little confused; that statement had come from nowhere.

"Shit's still after me... p-probably always will be. Everyone wants a piece of Rick Sanchez, intergalactic terrorist, d-destroyer of worlds. I-I know that's what the people of B-Bird World call me... fucking stupid title." Rick set the whiskey bottle on the floor next to his head. "Y-you're gonna have to watch my back, b-because otherwise shit's going to kill me..." His stomach made a sudden spasm of protest, and he made a harsh, involuntary retching sound. He swallowed hard, managing to keep it down.

"What is chasing after you, Rick?" Birdperson peered down at him. "And if you are going to purge, please consider taking yourself to the bathroom as soon as you can."

"I-I'm fine." Rick answered quickly, dismissing it entirely. "Just... just warning you in advance." He looked back up at Birdperson, a deep scowl coming over his face, still incredibly bitter about being deprived of his guns in spite of his apology. "Y-you took my stuff away, so now I can't shoot back at... at anything trying to kill me. Y-you... y-you're going to have to do it for me..."

"Is something else coming for you, Rick?" Birdperson seemed even more confused; that was a rarity for him. It sounded like important information though, so he pushed it. "What is it?"

"F-feds, probably. Gromflomites, other versions of m-myself. E-everything else..." Rick's voice was quiet as he listed them all out. "D-doesn't matter what I do, shit's going to come after me and try to k-kill me. I-I need you to... if something happens to me, y-you'll take care of Mmm-Morty for me, right?"

Birdperson stared back at the spiky-haired man; the information he was hearing was definitely cause for concern and if Rick was saying it, it must have been true. He could think of no reason to doubt his best friend's words.

Rick scowled at Birdperson's silence, not liking it at all. He looked up at him, glaring. "P-promise me. W-without me, Mm-Morty has no hope. He's j-just a scared little kid and without me h-he doesn't have anything... poor little bastard..." His voice momentarily choked up; thinking about that really did hurt him no matter how drunk he was.

"This threat will come to Bird World, yes?" Birdperson asked suddenly. While he did care about Morty's future, the concern of his home world being at risk was more important to him in the moment. "Is it going to harm the entire planet or just you, Rick? I need to know the answer to this so we can prepare for it accordingly."

"I... I don't even know..." Rick placed a hand on his forehead in the attempt to keep his emotions contained. The whole world was spinning faster than it had before. "J-just keep an eye out for shit... keep a gun on y-you at all times and be ready to s-shoot anything that's..." He sat up rather suddenly, his stomach protesting once again. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep it down.

"Rick, take yourself to the bathroom." Birdperson's tone was calm, though he wasn't happy with what he was hearing now.

Rick finally decided that Birdperson's suggestion was a good one. He attempted to get to his feet again, only to stumble over and hit the floor once again. The bottom of the whiskey bottle smashed open as it hit the ground and the contents promptly spilled across the wooden floor. "Ah shit, n-not my good stuff!" He reached out with a hand, grabbing at the glass fragments and the puddle, even though he knew it was completely futile to bother trying to save it.

"I will get you some more." Birdperson told him quickly, he was sure he had something around that would keep Rick happy. He moved to his feet and reached down, grabbing Rick's arm so he could haul him to his feet. "Go to the bathroom. Then go back to bed."

"I'm... I'm so sorry I've been a dick to you, Birdperson..." Rick lowered his head as he was pulled back onto his feet. "S-so... y-you're still my friend? We're... w-we're cool again, right?"

"Yes, Rick. You are still my friend, and you always will be no matter what happens." Birdperson told him, his voice still very flat. "It does not matter how you behaved towards me during the last couple of days and it would take a lot more than that for our friendship to end. But if you could, please avoid behaving that way in the future. It is not entirely pleasant to be on the receiving end of it."

"S-sorry..." Rick didn't bother looking up. He stared down at his feet, and then the broken whiskey bottle on the floor. That strong feeling of regret was back all over again, and worse, now he didn't even have anything to drink. "Th-thanks, BP..."

"Do you need assistance in walking down the hallway?" Birdperson asked him.

"N-no..." Rick clumsily pulled his arm away, needing a moment to steady himself on his feet. He drunkenly staggered out of the room, his shoulder heavily hitting the wall once he was out in the hallway. His stomach gave an abrupt heave and he threw up on the floor in front of him. He simply stepped over the mess and made the slow uncoordinated stumbling walk into the living room. He decided the couch was far enough and collapsed down onto it, remembering to lie on his side in case he threw up again in his sleep; he didn't want to choke to death.

Birdperson shook his head as he heard the sound, though it didn't bother him that much; it was a small price to pay for what had just happened. Rick had told him everything and apologized to boot; it must have been very hard for him to do that. He very much appreciated it and respected Rick all the more for it. However, he couldn't deny the fact that he was concerned over his best friend's safety now; if what he said was indeed true, then he would need to keep a vigilant watch.

It didn't matter if his friend or his home planet was in trouble as both were equally important to him. He picked up a couple of spare woven blankets that he kept in the cupboard beside his bed and stepped out of the bedroom, being careful to avoid the mess in the hallway. Once in the living room, he tossed them over Rick, covering him up with them.

"Get some sleep. We can discuss the situation again in the morning." Birdperson told him, his voice quiet. "If you have any further details, I would like to hear them when you are able to do so."

Rick made a pathetic groan in response. He had heard Birdperson's words, but he was no longer capable of forming a useful response.

Birdperson let him go, though he couldn't help but wonder why trouble always somehow seemed to find him; maybe he would never know.


	8. The Full Morty

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights: ** I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.

 **NOTE:** A lot of the plot in this chapter was requested by Sillycritter. :) Writing from the perspective of a baby is actually easier than you might think (seriously try it, it's fun). This entire subarc was going to be one entire chapter, but because it grew so huge, it's since been broken up into two. Tidied for grammar + repeats.

* * *

 **Chapter 8 – The Full Morty**

 **November 22nd, 7:15am Local Time, 2001  
** **Birdperson's Tree House  
** **Bird World, Dimension Unknown**

* * *

He was quite warm and comfortable in the position he had been sleeping in. Feelings of hunger had started to come over him, but it wasn't something that bothered him just yet. He was content to lie there in the peaceful quiet of the room as he began to gather his sleepy baby thoughts.

Morty was only 17 months old and his motivations were still relatively simple; eat, sleep, poop, cry when something hurt, and calm when somebody who smelled familiar was cuddling him. He was at a critical developmental age where he was grasping the beginning concepts of language; he had discovered that making noises and calling out sound-names would very quickly get people's attention. Morty didn't have a name for himself just yet; his brain was only just starting to operate with words. His thoughts were still dominated by emotions, feelings, and a pictorial memory that his mind almost constantly updated, thousands of brand new neural connections being made every day as he learned about the world around him.

His favorite people were three different adults; all of them smelled unique and were very recognizable by sight. The first called herself 'mom', and then there was another that wasn't quite mom, but still very good for comfort, even if he was a little unsure of himself.

The third was completely unlike the other two; he was loud, seemed to like yelling and burping a lot, and always seemed to smell spicy, though the youngster would one day learn that this was the aroma of scotch whiskey. His wild spiky hair was always incredibly fun to pull on and Morty found that he could get away with it more often than not. He had a word for himself, too – 'Rick'. Morty knew the sound quite well, but still wasn't particularly good at pronouncing it yet. He was very keen to learn it though, because he was sure once he got the whole word down, Rick would surely pay more attention to him.

The young boy had no idea why the spiky-haired person who called himself 'Rick' was such a predominant fixture in his life now, but it didn't really bother him; he always seemed to be close by and was quick to comfort him when he made enough noise to demand his attention. Sometimes Morty wondered where his mother was, but as long as the one who called himself 'Rick' was close by, he didn't seem to mind too much. Sometimes he missed his mother and found himself thinking about her smell and her face, but he felt exactly the same way about 'Rick' when he was taken away from the tree house. He was willing to cling onto any familiar person he could get right now.

In more recent times, Morty had refused to let Rick out of his sight; the unfamiliarity of the world around him was incredibly scary, and he was the only steady fixture that he knew of anymore. One day everything had been completely normal, but then there was noise, noise, too much traumatizing noise, fire, then explosions, and then quiet; he couldn't remember much because he had just screamed through it all, wanting it to stop. It had since gone away, but he still wouldn't let Rick go anywhere without him just because remembering it all still frightened him. He couldn't quite comprehend why he needed Rick's presence so much; he only knew that his smell and closeness brought comfort and made everything so much more bearable.

Morty rolled over and kicked a foot out, half expecting to bump it into the sleeping lump of a grandfather that was normally present whenever they were in this spot. However, he soon discovered that the rest of the space was cold and absent and didn't like this at all; he simply couldn't understand why Rick wasn't there and it made him incredibly upset. He sat up and began to cry about it, feeling very insecure with the fact that he was all by himself. He didn't want to be alone; the thought absolutely terrified him. He cried even louder in his misery, tears streaming down his little face.

The loud sound soon attracted somebody, though it wasn't who he wanted at all. There was now a feathery person at the doorway, staring at him. Morty got to his feet and made a sharp noise of alarm as the bird person came into the room; he didn't want to have anything to do with him. Although he vaguely recognized who the stranger was, he wasn't Rick; he wanted him and only him.

Morty continued his loud, teary-eyed crying as he hopped off the roll-away cot and made a break for the door, afraid and incredibly insecure without somebody he trusted well enough to keep him safe. The young boy only made it about three or four steps; he was still terrible at running and tripped straight over his own feet. The abrupt contact with the floor had only made it worse and his upset noises were escalated straight to full blown screaming at the top of his lungs.

Birdperson stood over Morty, partly confused, partly bewildered. He was still getting used to the presence of humans in his house and he found them to be very strange creatures indeed; Rick was at least understandable because he could communicate and express himself, even if he was terrible at it. However, Morty was completely beyond his level of understanding; he had no idea why the tiny human found reason to cry and yell about so much, but the sound was loud enough to hurt his ears.

Birdperson decided right then and there that enough was enough; Rick was still asleep on the couch in the next room over and he didn't particularly want him to wake up just yet, as he knew he was going to have a terrible hangover, and didn't want to deal with it until he needed to.

The bird-man simply moved across the room to pick the little boy up and hold him at arm's length. His attention was drawn to the room around him, remembering that Rick usually did something with him as soon as he woke up, though he couldn't quite remember what it was. In another moment, Birdperson had decided that this was outside his area of expertise and carried the screaming child out of the room. His pace quickened as he headed through the living room, wanting to minimize the amount of noise that Rick would be exposed to as he exited the tree house via the front door; he had to deal with this immediately.

* * *

Gresharak had already appeared at the doorway to her own tree house; she had heard the sound already and just stood there, listening. She was not in the least bit surprised as she saw Birdperson fly across the distance to her tree house and she stepped out onto the landing, watching the new arrivals with intense curiosity; she already wanted to know the reason for the sound and why they were here.

Birdperson landed on the wooden deck with an abrupt thud, Morty secure in his arms. He immediately turned his attention towards the female and offered the young child out for her to take. "I do not understand the reason for this noise. Please find a way to deal with it in an appropriate and swift manner."

"There is always a reason for it," Gresharak's explanation was a little hurried as she reached out to take Morty from Birdperson, "sometimes it is just a simple one." She began to rock Morty in her arms. "Sometimes it could be just a pain, or perhaps something does not feel right. This noise is relatively familiar in pitch and I recognize it because he has made it every time you have brought him to me. It is the noise he makes when he pines to be back where he is most happy."

"Thank you for dealing with this again," Birdperson told her, "you may need to take him into your care for the entire day. We shall see."

Gresharak stared at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and unhappiness. "That does not bode well for me; he is impossibly difficult to calm when he is like this. However, I am almost certain that I know why you are here... the one you call 'Rick' is incapacitated again, yes? What happened this time?" She shook her head, pausing for only a moment before speaking again. "For somebody who appears to be so healthy, at least physically, he does find himself in a lot of strife."

"Yes, trouble always seems to find him." Birdperson nodded his head, knowing that statement carried far more weight to it than he was willing to let on. "Trouble always finds those who assist the cause of freedom. We are never safe and some of us are still running. However, this has nothing to do with that. This time the cause of his downfall was entirely... self-inflicted."

"Self-inflicted?" All of the feathers on Gresharak's neck bristled in one movement. "Please tell me that does not mean what I think it means..." She had stopped patting Morty on the back and stared back at her neighbor, horrified, wanting an answer immediately.

"No, he is quite safe, do not worry about that." Birdperson quickly raised a hand and waved it in a dismissive gesture. "However, I am sure there is no way to word this without it sounding like irresponsible conduct on Rick's behalf."

As Gresharak narrowed her eyes, her feather comb raised high above her head as her expression shifted towards suspicion. "What happened to him?" She resumed patting Morty on the back and although he was quiet again, she didn't seem to notice.

Birdperson remained silent; no matter how he thought about it, there wasn't really a way he could make it sound like Rick getting completely drunk was a positive thing. There was certainly no way he was about to speak ill of his best friend either, not after what he had done to himself in order to apologize.

Gresharak took one more look at Birdperson and cradled Morty close to her chest as she turned on her heels and launched herself high into the air.

As Birdperson watched her go, he regretted his decision to stay silent. He shook his head and took off to follow; he knew he would be needed before the situation could get out of hand.

* * *

It only took the bird mother a moment to fly the distance across the tree tops back to Birdperson's house. As she hurriedly forced the front door open, an incredibly unimpressed expression came over her features; she wanted to know exactly what this 'irresponsible thing' was and fully intended to find out for herself.

"What is going on?" Gresharak called out as she stepped into the living room. "Where are you?" Her question was answered as soon as she had spoken it, and her eyes fell onto Birdperson's couch and the lump of blankets lying across the cushions. She moved over in three angry steps and her voice changed to the exact pitch and tone she would have used if her own children were in trouble. "Get up! You have a young child here who needs you to be a parent. You also have some explaining to do!"

The loud noise had woken Rick up almost immediately. He propped himself up on his elbows and hugged the blankets around himself as he glared up at her, bleary-eyed. He already had a skull-splitting headache and the amount of light in the room was seriously hurting his eyes. "Volume..." his voice was hoarse and scratchy from his night of drinking, "...down." He blinked uncomfortably and pulled the blanket over his head in an attempt to block out some of the light. "C-can you just... fuck off for a couple of hours? That would be great..." He lay back down on his side with his back facing her now, not caring in the slightest that she was still there.

Gresharak moved to stand in the space directly in front of the lump now, and stared down at it, her feathers bristling. She could immediately detect the air of liquor still surrounding the other and she felt her anger rising. "So this is what has you incapacitated? You want me to take care of your child because you made yourself drunk?"

"I... I-I don't recall asking you to do that..." Rick's muffled reply came out from under the blankets. "Keep your voice down, s-stop with the bullshit already..."

As Birdperson moved back inside the house, he was completely torn; he wanted Rick to take time out and recover but he also knew that ushering the female out of his house would cause her to become even more riled up than she already was. He knew that Rick was more than capable of handling himself and pushing others away if he wanted, so he let them be and headed into the kitchen to begin mixing up something that would take the edge off Rick's hangover. If he got angry and blew up again, at least it wouldn't be on him this time.

"Very well, Rick." Gresharak made a point of harshly saying the name in her angry, motherly tone. "Get up and look at me when I'm talking to you. The very least you could do is be respectful when you are having a conversation with somebody."

"No offense, woman," Rick paused for a moment to yawn, "b-but I don't answer to you. Again, can you keep the volume down? Holy shit, y-you're too loud..." He finally sat up this time, figuring he wasn't going to get back to sleep anytime soon. He pulled the blankets back around himself and over his head, wearing them around his face like a hood. "You're the one who wants to have the conversation, not me." He lowered his head and furrowed his brows in pain; his eyes hurt and his headache was near unbearable. He had always been somebody who could tolerate a considerable amount of pain, but this was particularly bad, even for him.

"You know, under normal circumstances I would feel sorry for you. But you deserve exactly what you are getting right now." Gresharak told him sternly as she held onto Morty firmly with one hand, the other on her hip. "You should be ashamed of your conduct. You need a serious talking to!"

"Oh my god..." Rick groaned as he placed a hand on his forehead; his head was pounding with each heartbeat. Of all the times he regretted drinking too much, this certainly wasn't going to be one of them. "You have no idea what the reasoning behind it was, s-so just... try not to judge, OK? S-stop... stop being such a bitch."

Morty was listening to the exchange, though he remained quiet. Although he was very happy to finally see Rick, he couldn't comprehend why he was so grumpy. He also looked like he was hurt, which Morty didn't like at all. He pulled at a couple of the bird woman's feathers as he leaned against her, entirely uncertain about himself and torn; he wanted to be with his grandfather, but he also didn't right now.

Birdperson finished what he was doing quickly; he had been listening to the whole conversation and didn't want it to degrade further. He simply moved over to the couch with a cup in hand and held it out for the other to take, completely silent.

Without saying a word, Rick reached out to take the cup and drank the entire contents in one go. His only response was a loud guttural burp as he handed the cup back to Birdperson.

"What was that?" Gresharak's eyebrows were raised as she watched the curious exchange.

"Powdered, salicylic willow bark and concentrated ilex-leaf extract," Birdperson answered with a small shrug of his shoulders, "dissolved into ordinary warm water."

"A-and if there was still a planet Earth, y-you could patent that shit and make millions fro-URRRPPPm it." Rick pulled the blankets off himself and dropped them on the cushion beside him, as he was done with them for the time being. "Bitter as hell, b-but it does the job."

"Rick, you know I have never been interested in the pursuit of making money." Birdperson looked down at him, his face completely expressionless. "It is a hollow endeavor that only ends in misery. It also results in having friends that are not genuine."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." Rick's reply was a tired grumble; all he wanted was for the pain to go away. "Get me another one of those, I-I'm gonna need it." He leaned back against the cushions behind him, his expression annoyed as he looked back at the bird mother. "Why are you still here?"

Gresharak puffed out all the feathers on her upper body, still furious with his current attitude. "Because you still need a serious talking to!" She held out Morty as if emphasizing her next point. "You need to take care of this little boy, he is entirely dependent on you! If you do not understand that, then you need some serious lessons in parental responsibility."

Rick shrugged his shoulders, not bothering to move. "Look, hold onto him for a while, i-if he's happy, then let him be. I already know what's going to happen here, so..." He glanced off to the side, thinking hard; he already knew she wasn't going to leave him alone until she'd spoken her mind, so he was pondering how to use it to his advantage. "I still need more time before I launch back into shit today, and you're probably not going to go away and shut up, so... if you can do your thing at a reasonable volume, I'll.. I'll listen to whatever you have to say."

"Really?" Gresharak's anger seemed to fade as confusion set in; she simply couldn't comprehend why he would so readily accept being criticized.

"One condition, though..." Rick's brows suddenly furrowed in pain and he squeezed his eyes shut; he knew the stuff Birdperson had given him would take time to work and his head was still pounding. "Take care of the kid until I-I'm a little more useful, huh? If... if you can do that, I'll let you say whatever you want."

"All right. Done." Gresharak nodded in response, willing to take whatever she could get. "Where can I find your little boy's things? If I'm going to take care of him, I need to know where they are."

"In t-the... room down the hallway." Rick leaned forward, seeming to be having difficulty articulating his thoughts as he buried his face in his hands. "There's... there's a thing with things in it in the middle of the floor," he paused, scowling, "don't touch anything on the desk, and d-don't... mess up my stuff."

Gresharak turned away and headed off down the hallway with Morty.

Birdperson watched her go and moved back into the living room, carrying another cup with him. As he sat down beside Rick, he nudged him in the shoulder and offered it back to him. "Sit up. You will have to stir this one as it was made in haste. This is as much as I can give you for the time being. Consuming any more in such a short amount of time would cause a very unpleasant overdose. "

Rick made a soft laugh in spite of how he was feeling. "As if I ever cared about things like that... unpleasant overdose? What the hell do you think is wrong with me right now? D-do you even know who I am, BP?" As he lifted his head, he smirked back at the other, then reached out to take the cup. He swirled the contents around as he held onto it with both hands, watching the cloudy-white powder agitate as it moved through the water, forming a suspension. "Thanks for doing this for me."

"Anytime, Rick." Birdperson's response was calm, and he was pleased that any animosity that existed between them before was well and truly gone.

Rick's eyes stayed on the contents of the cup as he sat there in the silence, simply content to be in Birdperson's company. Despite how bad his hangover was, he felt strangely peaceful and he knew he had made the right decision. The heavy weight on his shoulders felt like it had been lifted, and the feelings of guilt were completely gone for the time being. Although he was still bitter about having his weapons taken away, he'd finally been able to accept that it had happened. The peace didn't last long however, and he looked up towards the hallway as he heard Morty screaming again.

"Jesus, Morty... s-shut up, will you?" He muttered aloud, scowling in irritation. "I should probably get that..."

"Let Gresharak deal with him for the time being, Rick," Birdperson told him, "she is a competent mother and knows what she is doing. Finish your medicine and give it time to be absorbed into your system."

Rick shrugged, then raised the cup to his mouth, swallowing the entire contents in a few mouthfuls. "Bleghh..." He screwed his face up in protest, then set the cup back down on the coffee table. "One of these days, y-you might actually be successful in mixing u-UURRRRPp something that doesn't taste like garbage. Or brake fluid... o-or garbage mixed with brake fluid."

"I could have added pine sugar to it to make it more palatable." Birdperson thought aloud as he turned his attention back towards the kitchen. "Do note that the key words in that sentence were 'could have'. You see, I could have, if you did not eat it all yesterday."

"Oh shut up, BP." Rick smirked back at him. "That shit was good, and you know it! I would totally do it again. In fact, go get more, huh?"

Gresharak walked back into the living room, carrying one very-grumpy Morty with her. She moved to stand in front of the couch again, seeming flustered. "Somebody decided to put up a fight today, it seems," she held onto the little boy despite the fact she was being assaulted by his little, flailing arms, "he didn't want to wear pants."

Rick's brow was completely flat as his eyes tracked her back into the room, the tiniest smirk at the edge of his mouth as he watched them, amused with Morty's behavior. "Hah. T-that's completely normal. You're not telling me anything I don't already know."

Gresharak turned her attention towards Birdperson. "I must ask something very important of you. Forgive me for asking you to leave; this is your own house and I should not be telling you what to do in it. However, your friend and I need to have a very serious talk together. He needs to understand how to be a better parental figure. You understand, yes?"

Birdperson gave Rick a sideways glance, hesitant, trying to gauge his reaction. He wasn't sure if he wanted to leave them alone together, especially knowing how quickly the spiky-haired male could blow up if only wound up enough.

Rick shrugged back at him. "I already told her she could, BP. A deal's a deal, y'know? And I'm a man of my word, s-so," he scowled back at her, "have at it. You want to tell me how terrible of a job I'm doing? So be it."

Birdperson moved to his feet, though he couldn't help but feel a little bit surprised. He had known Rick well for many years; the man constantly reminded everyone that he didn't like being told what to do and now he seemed willing to take it from somebody he barely knew. It didn't make sense. Still, he nodded his head, respecting Rick's wishes as he picked up the cup, retreating to the kitchen, and then to the master nest-room in the tree house.

"Well let's get this over with already." Rick huffed in annoyance. Although he wanted to get up and go back to work, the pain behind his eyes was still too strong for him to do anything useful. He knew he would just have to sit it out patiently for the time being.

Gresharak sat down on the couch next to Rick, her weight sinking heavily into the cushions. She set Morty down in his lap and her expression softened almost right away; she knew that if such a serious topic was to be brought up and discussed, it would need to be done so with kindness and understanding.

Rick picked Morty up and scooted one whole cushion away; she had been too close for him to be comfortable with it. Both of his arms circled Morty's chest, and he drew the little boy in for a hug as he looked down at him. "Hey there, little buddy. So you're gonna sit with me while the mean bird woman tells Grandpa Rick what a shitty person he's being, y-yeah?"

Morty made a soft, happy noise in response to Rick's words; he had no idea what he was saying, but his tone was friendly and he was simply happy to be back with him. He leaned against him and gently batted his hands across Rick's arm, soothed by his presence.

Gresharak sighed at Rick's words. "It is not a joke. You should not make light of the situation, your behavior is very concerning. First and foremost: your language. Your hatchling does not need to hear those words ever, let alone from his primary caregiver. You should be more thoughtful about what you say around him."

"Y-you want me to think about that? Seriously, woman? Do you even know who I am?" Rick raised an eyebrow at her, then returned his attention to Morty, tapping him on the shoulder. "Hey. Hey little buddy, look at me. C-can you say 'fuck'?"

Morty stared back at Rick, understanding enough of what he was saying to make sense of it. He paid particularly close attention to Rick's mouth as he pronounced the word, because he wanted to learn it and make him happy. "F-ff-fuh."

"Heh heh heh!" Rick bared his teeth in a devilishly wicked grin as he glanced back up the bird mother. "Y-yeah there you go, I thought about it. Next."

Morty made a soft happy noise, deeming his attempt a success. "Fff-fuh!"

"H-hey, that's actually pretty good." Rick's attention was suddenly back on Morty – that vocalization had taken him by surprise. "Good work, little buddy." He seemed genuinely pleased as he ran a hand through the little boy's soft hair, ruffling it up. It was the most complete word he had ever heard Morty make and he was legitimately proud of him. "We'll have to spend s-some more time talking later, huh?"

Gresharak stared at the two, absolutely horrified with the exchange. "Oh my, why are you teaching him that? You are not even going to try to take this seriously, are you?"

Rick waved a hand as if to dismiss it. "Oh relax, lady. Don't get me wrong, I said I'd listen to what you have to say and I was serious about that... taking all of it into consideration, though? That's different. Depends what you say, doesn't it?" He shrugged. "In all seriousness, h-have at it. You think you can make me a better parent? Off you go then."

Gresharak's expression shifted to unhappy as she sighed. "I will only continue this if you take it seriously. I do not want to waste my breath and I am not even going to say it for your benefit, Rick. You need to do it for your little one's sake. Do you understand that?"

Rick shrugged at her a second time. "You're the one who started it. So what's next on the agenda?"

"I understand that things are difficult right now." Gresharak continued, her voice returning to a gentle tone; she knew she needed to stay calm and compassionate if she was ever going to get him to listen properly. "You are having trouble coping and resorting to the assistance of fermented products seems like an easy way out. But it is not. You cannot care for your little one when you are so inebriated that you cannot even care for yourself."

"Hah! You're worried about that?" Rick raised both of his eyebrows this time; she really had no idea. "Look, all I'll tell you is this... it's been dealt with. Everything I do is for a pretty damn good reason, including that. I got shit squared away with BP last night, no need to worry about that any more. I'll give you some credit though, you're observant and you're worried about Morty's safety, and by association, me. I-I get that. But shit happened last night, i-it's done with."

"So... you're feeling better?" Gresharak stared at him. "You do not want to harm yourself?"

"Phh, NO!" Rick scowled. "Did Birdperson tell you that? I suppose he must have, t-there's no other way you could have known," he narrowed his eyes suddenly, "fucking tattle-tale motherfucker!"

"He was worried about you. You have a great friend, Rick. That is the main reason why he sent me out to find you yesterday," Gresharak told him, "do not take somebody like that for granted."

"Y-yeah no shit, lady." Rick picked Morty up in his arms as he moved to his feet; he knew she was trying to pick his brains and get him to open up to her, but he wasn't going to have a bar of it. He was feeling more awake and the pounding inside his head was becoming more tolerable, which meant that the medicine was starting to do what it needed to. With this observation noted, he decided that he was probably good enough to go back to work. "S-so do you have more stuff to tell me, or what? Because if you want to continue talking, you can hang around the table in my room." He figured that he could take advantage of her presence and use her to distract Morty. He wasted no time moving back towards the spare nest room, not bothering to wait for her.

Gresharak simply moved to her feet and followed, taking the invitation as a positive sign. Once in the room, her attention was on the walls. Although she'd already been in the room a little while ago, she didn't have the time to take it in because she had been tending to Morty's needs. As her eyes attentively looked across the designs, she knew that she was looking at something that had been produced by a keenly intelligent mind. She recognized some of them at once, and although she had known who Rick was from Birdperson's stories, actually seeing the scientist's years of work in front of her was fascinating. She began to slowly pace around the room, her eyes following the pins and the lines of string between them; she knew it was all connected somehow but it was all way beyond her level of expertise.

"You like them?" Rick watched her in his peripheral vision as he sat back down at the desk. "They're old as shit now, I-I actually forgot to tear them down." He deposited Morty into his lap and picked up his soldering gun, immediately getting back to work. "If you wanna do that for me, feel free. They need to go in the trash anyway..." As he talked, he ionized a couple of resistor wire legs onto the circuit board in front of him, and then carefully clipped the excess wire off with a pair of pliers. His eyes were still hurting, but he didn't mind as long as he could focus on what he was doing.

"Why would you want to throw such intricate work away?" Gresharak stopped in front of one of the older blueprints as it caught her attention. It was quite faded and the edges of the paper had curled over in the many years it had been stuck to the wall. "I recognize this weapon design. My spirit mate owns several of them... I think they are called 'Ballzinators'? He still uses them in his patrols around Bird World."

"Hah, oh them? Wow, those are fucking garbage. Throw them away, I-I'll design you something better." Rick's reply was gruff. "That was one of my first, any tired hack could design better shit than that." He frowned suddenly as Morty made a grab for his soldering gun and he pulled it away. "That's not for you, little buddy. Don't touch it, you'll burn your hands off."

"I will leave them there for you, Rick. You should not throw away your past, it is a record of how you grew into the person you have become." Gresharak turned around, then decided to sit down on the edge of Rick's roll-away cot, her weight sinking heavily into it. "You seem like a very busy and intelligent man. How are you able to balance your work and a small child at the same time? Are you finding it hard?"

Rick gave a small shrug of his shoulders, irritated at the fact she was still persisting at getting him to talk. "It's working out so far."

Morty made a loud noise in declaration of his boredom. He wanted to play and Rick wasn't paying attention to him; he had been before and he couldn't figure out why it wasn't happening now. The little boy sat up and began to whack his grandfather's outstretched arms while he worked, making loud noises at him in an attempt to turn his focus back towards him; surely that would work.

"Stop doing that, Morty!" Rick gritted his teeth; his headache was still bothering him and he wasn't in a good mood. "I'm getting real tired of your shit..." He dropped his soldering gun on the desk and picked Morty up, returning him to the floor. "Go annoy someone else."

Morty made a loud frustrated noise and began to growl; he hadn't wanted to be put down. He began thumping the chair leg with his little hands in his frustration, hoping it would get Rick's attention again.

"If you are having trouble coping, there are many things you can do about it." Gresharak offered, her attention on Morty for the time being, finding his behavior fairly typical to watch. "Sometimes just taking the time out to spend time with your little one can tire him out. You might find that you will have more time to yourself if he is taking frequent naps." She watched the two carefully, but didn't want to interfere. "Have you taken him to the hot springs yet? A nice long soak in the warm water always puts my babies to sleep."

"No." Rick's reply was short and completely disinterested. He picked up the next component and began soldering it onto the circuit board, completely ignoring what was happening to his chair. He felt stubborn and defiant; the pain behind his eyes wasn't going away as fast as he wanted it to and Morty was being annoying as hell. He had decided that he would just fight through all of it and keep trying to work for as long as he could.

"You should consider it," Gresharak told him, not seeming to notice his deteriorating mood, "I also have mint oil. He would respond well to a nice massage."

Morty grabbed at the tails of Rick's lab coat, having remembered that being fun back in the garage of his house. He held onto the fabric with both hands and began tugging on it, making small noises with each tug as he tried to regain his grandfather's attention. "Riiiii!" He yelled with particular firmness.

"Fucking stop it, Morty!" Rick was growling now, the quality of his negative mood deteriorating even further. "I'm trying to work here!" He snatched up the edge of his coat and tucked it under his butt.

"Try to be more patient with him." Gresharak's attention was on Rick's face, and she seemed worried at how quickly his mood was degrading. "He is too young to understand and he loves you. He wants you to spend more time with him. Every time I see you, you are either working hard on something or complaining about the fact that you need to finish it. Is there any way you would consider taking time out to spend time with your little boy? He is really insecure and needs to know you love him."

"Not gonna happen," Rick huffed, very clearly pissed off, "can't go out and play. Gotta get this shit finished..."

Morty moved around the chair, remembering that Rick's CD player had been something that put him in a good mood. He reached out to grab the appliance cord and tugged on it with an outstretched hand, causing the player to slide backwards off the table. It smashed down on the floor beside him and the loud noise frightened him. He began to loudly whimper in response.

Rick's eyes narrowed as far as they would go, his jaw tensed hard; he wanted to yell, but kept it contained. He remained seated at the desk, completely silent as he kept his attention glued to soldering another component down onto the board. Distracting himself with work usually kept him calm, but it simply wasn't doing a good enough good job right now; he was furious and his ability to tolerate the situation was fraying fast.

"He needs your undivided attention, not just part of it." Gresharak continued her explanation, her tone remaining gentle as if it could help somehow. "Sometimes there is not really a way to balance the two. There are times when you will need to put down what you are doing and let him know that he has your attention," she watched the appliance crash down onto the floor, though remained where she was, "such as right now."

"Don't... d-don't tell me what to do!" Rick sat there for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose; it was taking every ounce of will to not completely lose it. "L-look, it's fine, that's all you need to know." He slammed a fist down on the table in his frustration and accidentally knocked several components aside, as well as the circuit board he had just been working on. He watched it bounce off the table in the rough movement and reached out for it as it clattered onto the floor.

Unfortunately for him, Morty was faster; he sprang ahead and beat his grandfather straight to it. He wasted no time snatching it up and popped it straight into his mouth, drooling heavily on it. He concluded that if Rick found it so fun, maybe he would, too.

When Rick witnessed what was happening to his circuit board, his ability to contain himself had completely crumbled beyond the point of no return. "What the FUCK did I just say to you!?" He reached down and aggressively snatched it out of the little boy's mouth. "That's NOT for you! Why can't you just keep your goddamn mouth shut for once in your miserable little life so I can finish this shit and get us out of here?! Can't you see I'm trying to do this for you? Why do you feel the need to be so fucking annoying all of a sudden!?"

Morty stared back up at Rick and he was frozen on the spot, paralyzed with fear. His lower lip began to quiver and his mood instantly deteriorated, but he dared not make noise while he was being yelled at.

Rick swung around in the chair and took a moment to inspect the damage, repulsed at the fact there was a heavy coat of baby slobber all over his work. He threw the circuit board across the table in his anger and glared back down at the little boy. "That's fucking disgusting! Y-you got your germs all over it! You probably just ruined it, too, you little shit! D-do you know how much time that's going to cost me!?"

Morty finally broke down in tears and fearfully retreated, running to the safety of the weird feathered bird lady he only barely knew; she was far less scary right now. He bumped hard into her leg and began miserably wailing into the fabric of her clothing.

"Wow." Gresharak's voice was low and very unimpressed. She wasted no time picking Morty up and cradled him in her arms so she could begin calming him down again. "I genuinely have no idea what to say to you right now."

Rick simply sat there, staring ahead at the space on his work table as he listened to the noises reverberating off the walls of his room, his anger dissipating entirely. The loud, penetrating crying was doing nothing for his headache, but he no longer cared about that. He hadn't meant to snap, but he wasn't feeling well to begin with and his patience had been low since he had woken up. He placed both hands on the desk, lowering his head as he gave himself a minute to calm down; he felt terrible. The loud crying sounds were positively heartbreaking to listen to, and he knew that once again, his grandson was upset solely because of his bad temper. It hadn't felt good last time and he had told himself that he needed to prevent it from happening. And yet, here he was, repeating the same action all over again.

Rick moved off the chair, his brows creased in concern as he looked down at the little boy in the bird woman's arms, feeling compelled to do something. "H-hey come on buddy, I didn't mean it like that." He crouched down in front of them and reached out in an attempt to place a hand on Morty's head, but he was met with a loud defiant scream of resistance as the youngster tried to get away from him. "Come on, buddy... don't be like that, huh?" He withdrew his hand again and just stayed there, silently observing the little kid as a deep frown grew across his face.

"Perhaps you should just give him some time," Gresharak suggested as she continued to pat the little boy on the back, "sometimes they just need to cry it out."

Rick nodded once in acknowledgment and stood up again, moving out the doorway. Once he was in the hallway and out of sight, his shoulder hit the wall as he sank against it; he really hadn't meant to lose it like that, that was bad enough. But the look Morty had given him when he tried to get away from him felt even worse; he had outright rejected him. He shook his head and headed for the kitchen; he needed to rehydrate and give the medicine in his stomach more time to work.

He could still hear Morty's protests as he filled up a cup with cold water and leaned against the counter in heavy regret. The noise was fairly recognizable in pitch and tone; it was the same noise that Morty had made before they had arrived through the portal onto Bird World, when the entire world was in the process of being destroyed. Even though there were no words, he could pick up on the fact that it was full of insecurity and fear, and this time it was entirely directed at him.

"Fuck," He hissed aloud to himself, "He's... h-he's really going for it there, huh?"

He hung around the kitchen for a few more moments, reluctant to go back. When he realized that the noise wasn't going to quieten down, he returned to the doorway to his room and stood there, watching attentively. "H-hey..."

Gresharak looked up at him, but said nothing.

"Look, uh..." Rick rubbed the back of his head as he tried to conceal his mood with a scowl, "I need you to do me a real solid, bird lady... I can't pronounce your name. Can you just... take him away for a while?"

Gresharak blinked at the suggestion, confused. "You are giving up?"

"No." Rick stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, glaring hard at the space on the floor in front of him. "He would probably benefit from spending time apart from me for a while. I did this, I can undo it later. But he has to calm down first, and that's not going to happen while I'm still around. This is my room, s-so... fuck off." He raised his head again, glaring at her, his tone suddenly becoming resolute and authoritative. "Take him back to yours for a couple of hours. I'll come find you again when things have settled, and... and I'll make this right again."

Gresharak stood on her feet, still holding onto the little boy. "This is not a good way to go about this. You cannot just avoid the problem entirely."

Rick's left eyebrow twitched and he glared harder at her; anger was an easy way out and he knew it. "I-I don't really give a shit how you think I should handle it! Just let me deal with this my way, OK?" He realized how abrasive he was sounding as he spoke, but that was exactly what he wanted because he was actively trying to make her go away.

It seemed to work. The female bird mother simply shook her head at him as she passed by, walking down the hallway, carrying the crying child out of the tree house with her.

Rick stepped back into the room and slammed the door behind him. It didn't do anything for his mood, but damn it felt good to make noise. He sat back down at the desk and picked up the circuit board he had thrown, feeling concerned over the fact that it was more likely to have been damaged in the impact against the tabletop rather than being in the mouth of a small child.

After checking it over, he discovered it was perfectly intact, albeit a little wet.

Rick sighed aloud as he wiped it off on his lab-coat sleeve. "Fucking idiot..." He chastised himself. He realized he had gotten angry over something completely preventable and it didn't even matter much anyway. As long as he had the etching chemicals, he could make as many circuit boards as he wanted to; all it would cost him was time. As he dropped the circuit board back onto the table, he realized that he'd upset another person and worse, this time it was his own grandson; a little kid who was barely able to comprehend complex thoughts and feelings, let alone words.

There would be no way of talking himself out of this one. He had no idea how to make amends with such a small child; he had never had to do anything so outrageous before. Morty barely understood anything he was talking about most of the time, so simply talking it out and apologizing in the same way he had done to Birdperson was out of the question.

His mind began to race with all kinds of questions; what exactly were babies motivated by? Hugs? He couldn't do that, Morty had wanted to get away from him and likely didn't even want to have anything to do with him for the time being. Candy? He didn't have any and he'd always been against the idea of bribing children to get them to do something. There wasn't even any interesting food in the box of baby supplies he could use, but that would have been stupid anyway. Morty wasn't solely motivated by food; he wasn't a dog. It wasn't going to be that simple.

Rick moved to his feet and grabbed up the backpack he had used yesterday during his trip outside and began loading it with supplies, intending to take off for the day. After making his way outside, he began to climb down the tree. He'd climbed up and down so many times over the years that his body was on autopilot as his mind began to ponder a way out of his predicament, though he had to admit that he currently couldn't think of one. As his feet touched the ground, he headed away from the tree house community at a fairly casual pace. He needed time to get away and time to think.

He needed to stop doing this; it was just becoming repetitive, abusive behavior now. He needed to stop yelling and losing his temper at the people he actually gave a damn about.


	9. Do It For Him

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. WATCH IT FOOL.

 **NOTE:** Second part, a direct continuation from Chapter 8, the larger subplot in this chapter is a request by Sillycritter :) There are also hints at PTSD trauma. Grammar and repeats tidied.

* * *

 _The sun goes down, the stars come out  
_ _And all that counts is here and now  
_ _My universe will never be the same_

 _I'm glad you came_

 _\- Glad You Came - The Wanted_

* * *

 **Chapter 9 – Do It For Him**

Rick had already been on the ground a few hours by the time he would be interrupted again. The hangover medicine that Birdperson had given him had finally kicked in and so his mind was finally clear and pain-free, which allowed him to put himself back to task.

Several blueprints were scattered across the ground in the immediate area around the scientist, but he had since put them aside for a different project entirely. His main focus was now on the piece of wood in his hands as he dug a small whittling knife into it, delicately shaving pieces off the sides, carving the chunk into a very deliberate shape. The same process had already been carried out on two other pieces, but the third was going to be particularly special so it was being done with extra precision and care.

He didn't look up when he heard the flurry of wing flaps overhead.

"Rick," Birdperson said once he was on the ground; he'd made a point of making noise during the landing because he hadn't wanted to startle the other. The house had been far too quiet for his liking and he had been surprised to discover that Rick wasn't there at all. For somebody who started the day barely being able to function, he had gotten surprisingly far away. "There you are. I have been looking for you."

"Oh, hey, BP." Rick shrugged at him, "Did you come all the way out here just to check on me? Phhh, what a waste of your time."

"I was thinking about what you said earlier," Birdperson launched into his thoughts right away, "if something is tracking you with intent to harm you, then it would be a wise idea to keep an aerial-eye lookout while you are away from the house."

"Oh, that..." Rick frowned; he had been so preoccupied with what he was doing and the fallout with his grandson that he had forgotten about it. "Don't worry about that, BP, you don't have to babysit me. I've already accepted it. If it comes for me, it comes, y'know? It's me they want, not anyone else here. If you're really serious about keeping an eye out, at least carry a big-ass weapon around. I did tell you that, right? Intimidate them a little, m-make them think you're gonna kick their ass."

"How are you feeling?" Birdperson ignored what he was saying; now that he knew his friend was safe, he was more concerned with his health.

"I'm fine now, your hell cocktail powder did the trick. Sure could do with another drink, though." Rick smirked up at him as if demonstrating that he hadn't learned anything at all. "Hey look, I kinda wanted to be alone, but now that you're here, you can actually do something useful for me." He picked up one of the wood carvings, along with a folded-up blueprint. "This is my design for a new plasma-containment bulb. Do you think you could take it to the glassmith for me? It needs to be fortified and damn-near unbreakable this time, I don't want to crush it again with my ass. If the glassmith wants to bitch about making something so complex, just remind them who I am and what I've done for this goddamned planet." He smirked arrogantly, knowing full well that namedropping could probably do him a lot of favors if he actually pushed it. "And if they want payment, tell them that they can demand whatever price they want so long as the bulb is made first. Have to get the portal gun working before I go get money, right?" He held both items up, impatiently waving them around in the air.

"Are you sure?" Birdperson reached out to take them. He took a moment to examine the rounded shape of the carved wood and turned it over in his hands. "This seems to be something that you could easily create by yourself. Did you use this design for the last one? Surely you can just make it again."

"I don't have any more time to waste on it." Rick shrugged as he picked up his whittling knife again and resumed carving, flicking the knife across the wood-grain in quick successive strokes. "Did you know we've already been here five days?" Anger rose in his voice and he carved faster, sending wood shavings scattering across the rest of his blueprints. "That's five days of sitting on my ass, a-and two of those were wasted through puking our guts out! In two more days it will be a whole fucking week, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing!"

"You have done plenty in that space of time, Rick." Birdperson told him. "Not all your achievements have to be measured by the quantity of your work." He hoped Rick would get the intention behind his statement; he'd already seen a lot of personal growth in his friend within the short time he'd been stranded on Bird World and wanted him to acknowledge it. "It does not matter, that is not why I am here." He opened a small leather satchel that had been attached to the side of his belt and removed the two items that had been in there; a water canteen and a clear bottle of suspicious-looking liquid. He carefully deposited both items on the ground next to the scientist and watched, hoping he would accept them. "These are for you."

"Oh?" Rick was immediately suspicious, but curiosity quickly overtook his mind. He set his work aside and picked up the bottle, only to cautiously eye off the contents. "What the hell is this?" He held it by the neck as he shook it up, his eyes watching the sediment swirl around inside. He wasn't at all impressed, and now that the drink was cloudy, it looked even less desirable than it had been at first sight.

Birdperson quietly observed Rick's disgust as he pondered how best to explain. "Seed wine," he stated after a hesitant pause, "you did not have anything left to drink. I hope this is an adequate replacement until you are able to obtain something else."

"I'm not really a wine drinker, BP. But thanks for thinking of me, I guess..." Rick continued to shake up the bottle, glaring at how dirty the liquid was inside. "What the hell did you do to distill it? It doesn't even look like it's been filtered." He pulled the cork off and took a cautious sniff, immediately screwing up his face at the potently sour offensive smell that assaulted his nostrils. "Oh god! Is this even drinkable? I-it smells like a rancid fart!"

Birdperson folded his arms. "Nobody drinks seed wine for the flavor or the smell, Rick."

"Yeah-yeah-yeah..." Rick grumpily dismissed the statement and took an experimental swig, only to immediately gag on the taste, utterly repulsed by it. "Bleaghh!" He spat the remainder out onto the ground beside him in his disgust; it was rare for him to reject anything alcoholic, but this was a new low, even for him. "Jesus, y-you bottled a liquid fart, Birdperson! Are you trying to kill me? Is this seriously the kind of crap you drink to get yourself wasted?!"

"Not me personally, Rick. However, I could probably locate some beer if you would find that more to your liking." Birdperson idly tapped his chin with an index finger as he pondered alternatives. "I also know somebody who makes mead from pine sugar."

Rick didn't seem content with either of those suggestions. He placed the cork back into the neck of the bottle and set it down on the ground beside him. "It'll have to do. It's... it's not going to kill me," he picked up his wood carving and resumed where he had left off, "at least, I hope not..."

"There is also a canteen of water," Birdperson nudged it with his foot, pushing it a little closer towards the other, "keep yourself hydrated."

"You're not my mother," Rick angrily muttered back at him, "d-don't tell me what to do..."

Birdperson shook his head; Rick was very much back to his old self again, that was for sure. He decided to sidestep the subject entirely, wanting to avoid any potential aggression from the other. "What are you working on right now?"

"Portal gun..." Rick mumbled in reply. He knew he sounded like a broken record by now, but at least he wasn't lying.

"I see." Birdperson nodded, immediately making note of the fact that while the shape of the wood carving did indeed look like one of his portal gun designs, it seemed to be too small somehow.

Rick's next question seemed to come out of the blue. "Where can I find paint?"

"Paint?" Birdperson had to blink at that; he couldn't see any conceivable reason why Rick would want such a thing. However, he knew better than to ask questions and casually pointed off into the distance. "There is a small workshop about fifteen miles south of our position. If you wish for me to take your design to the glassmith and to get it made today, I will need to travel there anyway."

"Great, kill two birds with... uhh..." Rick trailed off in the realization of what he was saying. "Y-yeah, sorry about that: insensitive idiom." He quickly shook his head, getting his thoughts back on track. "Just get me some paint. I need..." He narrowed his eyes in thought. "All three primary-color pigments, along with black and white. I don't need terribly much, just enough to cover some, uh... gadgets with it." His tone suddenly became harsh. "Make sure they're durable and non-toxic. The non-toxic part is r-really important."

Birdperson nodded in acknowledgment. "Do you need anything else?"

"Scotch-whiskey if you've got it." Rick muttered in annoyance and he was still very much sour over the fact he'd broken his last bottle; it had been an expensive brand and one of his favorites. "Or rum. Or vodka. Or sambuca. Anything that isn't fermented. prison-toilet juice, b-because that's basically what you've given me, Birdperson; a giant load of ass-farts in a bottle." He knew he should probably be thankful, but he was still in a sour mood.

"If I find a more suitable replacement in my travels, I will be sure to inform you as soon as I can." Birdperson didn't wait for a reply. He extended his wings and took off with a single powerful down thrust of his wings, kicking up dust and plant debris in his wake, leaving the scientist to himself once again.

Rick watched him go, not seeming to care that his blueprints were scattered in the wind. He simply lowered his head and resumed what he was doing, knowing full well that although he had sidestepped his main objective, what he was doing would be totally worth the time investment if it only worked.

* * *

Morty found himself being carried back into the strange house that he didn't like, but was getting used to by necessity; there wasn't anything to be afraid of here. The young boy was deposited in the middle of the floor by the strange-looking feathered lady and left to his own devices, which he didn't like either. He watched her towering large form walk away and began to whimper in protest, not wanting to be left alone.

However, he was quickly distracted out of his misery; the loud domestic chaos unfolding around him was more than enough to knock him out of his simple thoughts. The three, tiny-feathered children that always seemed to be inside were fighting with each other and flying around the room; this was one of the only activities that Morty had ever really observed them participate in, at least when they weren't sleeping. He would have joined in but he had chased them enough times to be bored of the game. They were nearly impossible to catch, so grabbing at them and pulling on their feathers had become a waste of his effort. Morty instead turned his attention to the furniture around him and his little mind was immediately trying to work out if there was anything fun or interesting around that he could get into.

That train of thought didn't last very long either; he saw one of the small feathery children coming at him and he gave a loud yelp, diving to the space under the couch; there was barely enough room for him to fit but he squashed himself under there anyway. He watched the feathery child crash down onto the floor, only to get back up and tackle one of his siblings, not seeming to care what had just happened.

Now that Morty was under the couch, he seemed pleased with the discovery of a good hiding place. There was a stale odor surrounding the area and it was cold, but at least he felt safe. Morty's attention was soon drawn towards a bug beside him on the floor, attracted by its shiny color and iridescent green wings as it crawled along. He picked it up and promptly popped it into his mouth, a little disappointed that it didn't taste like anything. He swallowed it while it was still wiggling and didn't think about it again; he really hadn't learned a thing about randomly eating things he found lying around. That event was already distant noise and a faded memory compared to everything else that had happened since.

Morty's attention was suddenly diverted as he heard crying; he cautiously peered out from under the couch, his gaze glued to the smallest of the three feathery children as he watched her flop onto the ground. When she made louder crying noises, he knew something was wrong but his baby mind was too young to deduct what that was. He simply stared at her, finding her flailing behavior to be very strange and something to be avoided entirely. Whatever had made her upset, he wanted no part of it.

The little boy could hear low warning trilling sounds and he froze; the two bigger feathery children were staring back at him, having decided he was their next target. Their posture became low and predatory as they started prowling towards him, coming closer. Morty loudly whimpered with uncertainty; he wasn't quite old enough to reason through what was about to happen, but he already knew he really didn't like it. He scooted out from under the couch and hastily retreated. If he were with somebody from his family and feeling a little more confident, he might have been bold enough to fight back, but right now all he wanted to do was get away.

Morty made a high-pitched, terrified wail as the first one gave chase, causing him to break into his awkward, clumsy run. He took five hurried steps and teetered backwards, somehow managing to balance himself to run another eight, making sharp noises of alarm on each exhale. He stumbled forwards and as he began to trip, only to be grabbed up in a pair of large feathery arms before he hit the deck.

Gresharak puffed out all the feathers on her body as she deftly scooped Morty up in mid-tumble, glaring down at the two boys who immediately crashed into her legs as they failed to reach their intended target. "Stop this silly game. We do not chase. This is a human, he cannot fly. And you're both bigger than him, so stop being mean. You should know better than this."

"Sorry, mom. He was a good target," the eldest one replied, offering a pathetic grin, "it is just a game, we are not going to hurt him. Is it all right to continue practice pouncing on him?"

"NO." Gresharak gave both of her sons a harsh glare, causing them to shrink away from her.

Morty immediately sulked in the bird woman's arms and grumbled at her in rushed nonsensical noises about his unpleasant experience. He grabbed onto her feathers and tried to climb the rest of the way up her body as if getting a higher position over the others on the floor would somehow lessen the insult of what he had just experienced.

The bird mother simply resumed what she had been doing around the house, tolerating whatever the young boy was doing to her. "I do not know a thing about you, or what you are even saying to me, little one." She seemed a little sad as she carried him into the back room to tend to his personal needs; he smelled awful. "And worse, you may never know anything about yourself, or where you came from."

The next couple of hours were much quieter and far more bearable. After being fed on more of the same food that had been shoveled into him previously, Morty was game enough to try playing with the feathered children again; being used as prey had been quickly forgotten. Fortunately for him, the boisterous male hatchlings and their timid sister had calmed down enough to accept the clumsy little human back into their games.

After stealing most of the cushions in the house, the couch became a pillow fort. When it became boring, they playfully shoved each other into the soft structure to make the fort collapse. After that game had become tiring, the wooden toys were dragged out and used as projectiles; Morty thought throwing them out of the open windows of the tree house was absolutely hilarious.

Expending so much energy made him tired. The bird-mother seemed to pick up on this, and within another fifteen minutes, all four of them were all scooped up and placed on the giant nest-bed in the back room of the house. Morty somehow joined the tumble of limbs and wings, becoming part of the chaotic jumble of sleepy siblings. Soon there was somebody's arm across his chest, and a different child's leg comfortably bent and resting across the top of his head. He didn't care however, he was quite comfortable. He soon drifted off to sleep, his belly full of food and surrounded by many warm feathers.

* * *

It was a sad thing to admit to, but not having a child around to demand his attention or distract him at every available opportunity had meant that Rick could use his time out to be incredibly productive. He'd since finished off his side project and painted his wood carvings; now they were left out on the landing of Birdperson's tree house to dry. He retreated back to the spare nest room and powered his way through adding components to both layers of circuit board, finishing them off with the same level of precision and care he had always done. They were soon linked to each other with multiple layers of dense insulated wire and Rick was finally pleased that he was making real progress.

Other things were soon pulled apart and added to the internal circuitry; the battery, the plasma core, and the LED portal generators were the only things he could salvage from the old model. He reclaimed parts from whatever gadget was accessible to him, and with a large amount of reluctance he had pulled apart his old electric guitar and amplifier, regretful for the fact he had never gotten another chance to play with them again. Soon after that, even his old cellphone was ripped apart and added to what had become a half-planned, half-improvised pile of electronic guts.

His new portal gun would need a new interdimensional display, and he soon found it in the CD player that Morty had so conveniently broken a few hours earlier; it used bright red digital characters on a black background which would actually turn out to become useful in low-light conditions. Rick had to concede to the fact that if Morty hadn't been screwing around, he might never have been inspired to use such an aptly appropriate display for the device. The volume knob soon made a nice adjustable dial and it was quickly repurposed and added to the design.

Rick delicately laid the portal gun's internal guts out on the table before him, afraid to damage it, even slightly; it was so close to completion that it would just be an insult to break now. Part of him wanted to connect the battery just to see if it had enough charge, but he knew that without the plasma bulb and the casing to keep it contained, the immense energy output that would build up as soon as an active circuit was made would quickly become unstable and all his days of hard-won effort would spectacularly blow up in his face.

All he could do was wait until Birdperson returned with the bulb, and he hoped with every fiber of his being that his gamble with the glassmith would pay off. He could spend all day tomorrow on the casing, that wasn't going to be a problem. The scientist leaned back in his chair and took a sip of from the bottle of rancid, cloudy-grey wine, and although he was repulsed by the taste to the point of actually feeling nauseated by it, having anything to drink at all was better than the alternative.

Rick stared up at the ceiling as he took another forced swig from the bottle, his mind torturing him all over again. He knew that he should be feeling proud right now; the amount of progress he'd been able to make today alone was absolutely astounding. However, now that he didn't have to worry as much about his portal gun, all he felt was immense regret over how badly he'd treated his grandson. He set the open bottle aside and closed his eyes, placing a hand over his forehead, trying to make it stop. Part of him really didn't want to go back and face what he had done, but he knew he had to. He was also becoming anxious over the fact that he was likely going to get another harsh lecture from the bird woman as soon as he saw her again, because no matter how angry or cold he could portray himself to be, she would be right; he was a terrible person.

Rick sat up properly and pushed his chair back, getting to his feet. He knew that no matter what he did now, he was only delaying the inevitable. He also knew that the longer he left it, the worse it would get. He had to do something; Morty's happiness was worth everything to him and the little boy was one of the only reasons he still wanted to be alive.

He had been the one to start it; now he would be the one to end it.

* * *

Somebody was kicking him and he didn't like it. Morty made a sleepy noise in protest and whacked his arm out to the side, smacking the leg away from his face. He was immediately rewarded with an aggressive wing-smack to the shoulder. He wasted no time grabbing onto the wing, biting into it as if to express his objections to being so rudely woken up. If he had more teeth it might have hurt, but the wing was simply withdrawn again, leaving the little boy to slobber down the front of his chin and clothes.

The female hatchling was the first one to move out of the cluster, for she had been sleeping in an awkward position and wanted to stretch. Her older brother immediately saw an opportunity to pounce and tackled her to the floor. In another moment, it was no holds barred and the loud strange game of tackling and screaming was back on all over again. Morty sat back, wanting to stay well out of the fray; the last time he had participated, it had ended in abrupt contact with the floor and incredibly unpleasant experiences.

When the bizarre fighting game moved out of the room, Morty simply followed it, only to stop dead in the living room; the tall, spiky-haired man who called himself 'Rick' was back, his attention locked straight on him. Morty stared up at his towering form to match his gaze but dared not approach, having remembered the fact he had been angry about something before. The little boy simply wasn't game enough to see if it was still the case, and not even the sight or smell of the familiar person would entice him to come closer until he knew it was safe; he didn't want to be yelled at again.

"So what are you going to do?" He heard Gresharak's voice travel across the room from somewhere overhead. "Do you remember everything I said to you before?"

"N-now's not really a good time for another lecture about that, OK?" Rick's reply was worn down and defeated. "I just... I-I just wanna take him and get out of here."

Morty didn't have the capacity to comprehend the conversation and quickly retreated under the couch, having remembered it to be a safe place. He watched Rick's feet move closer and then stand directly in the space in front of him. He still wasn't willing to come out.

"H-hey little buddy." Rick crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees, his lab-coat tail ruffled out on the floor directly behind him. "You gonna come out and say hi, o-or are you gonna stay in that foxhole forever?"

Morty made a loud noise of alarm in reply, not wanting him to come any closer. Although the lab coat would have been something he wanted to pull on and play with under normal circumstances, he was far more interested in expressing his unhappiness in nonsensical grumbling sounds.

"Y-yeah, I know, I know... I really screwed up this time, huh?" Rick's voice was low as he moved back to his feet and took two paces backwards, allowing the youngster some space. "Your grandpa is a horrible old man." There wasn't even a hint of sarcasm as he made the statement; he meant every word of it.

Morty cautiously peered out from under the couch, his attention fixated on Rick's face; he didn't seem angry at all now, only very sad and tired. The little boy couldn't work out why that was the case, but it certainly made him look far safer to approach than he did before.

Rick sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, silent. He pulled a couple of brightly colored, wooden objects out of his upper coat pockets and carefully deposited them onto the floor space in front of him, hoping that the little boy's curiosity would be enticed enough to come over and take a look. His gaze attentively locked onto Morty once again as he waited to see if he was going to accept what he'd made for him, though that didn't even really matter; he just wanted to be forgiven.

Morty finally wiggled out from under the couch and took two cautious steps forward. He still wasn't certain of Rick's mood but didn't want to risk the chance of making him upset again. He made another three wary steps across the room, finally standing in front of his grandfather, staring at his face as if needing time to read it, entirely uncertain of himself; he didn't know what was going to happen.

Rick sat and patiently waited, prepared to stay for however long it took for his grandson to relax in his presence again. With an outstretched hand, he gently nudged the first of the wooden objects towards the little boy and then the other, hoping to gain his interest with them. Both of them were small, wooden toys he'd made during the day simply because Morty didn't have any of his own to play with. The first was a small, round-toy spaceship that he'd carved out of a piece of driftwood near one of the hot springs. The other was a tiny, wooden portal gun that he'd painted up to look like a near-identical replica to the one he had been designing, made to scale for Morty's size. He'd spent the most amount of time on it simply because he had wanted it to look accurate. He knew that a baby wouldn't care about such details, but he certainly did.

Morty bent over to pick up the wooden spaceship, holding onto it with his left hand. He gave it an experimental shake, only to discover that it didn't make noise like a lot of the other toys he used to own and he quickly lost interest. He made a grab for the tiny portal gun toy and popped the handle straight into his mouth.

"If that's what you want to do with it, little buddy, then you do that." Rick told him, his voice quiet. "I actually don't want you to touch mine when it's done, so... we finally have a compromise. And yours actually got finished before mine, s-so technically, you have the first one off the production line."

Morty's attention drifted from one toy to the other in his hands, and then he dropped them both onto the floor so he could crawl into the empty space in his grandfather's lap. Once he worked out he wasn't going to be shoved away, he buried his face into Rick's shirt, happy to be close and take comfort in his warm familiar scent.

Rick lowered his head, regret still weighing heavily on his heart. While he was relieved about the fact that Morty was willing to sit on him again, it didn't do anything to make him feel better. He raised a hand and idly allowed his fingers to play through the baby boy's hair as he ruffled it up, noticing that it was growing out and becoming almost too long for him. It had started forming into small soft, unkempt spiky clumps over the top of his forehead and he began to wonder if it was a case of genetics being expressed or the fact that he hadn't had a decent bath in a while.

Without saying anything, Rick reached out to pick up the wooden toys and placed them back inside his lab-coat pockets. He carefully picked Morty up, holding him firmly in one arm as he pushed himself back up onto his feet. His attention was on the doorway now, and all he wanted to do was get out of there so he could make a proper apology to the little boy back in the privacy of his own room.

"Are you leaving?" Gresharak's voice called out across the room and she moved to stand in the doorway; she had been staying back out of the way, silently watching them the entire time.

"Y-yeah." Rick's response was quiet and devoid of his usual overtone of anger and grumpiness. He shrugged at her and stepped outside.

The feathery woman quickly moved after him. "Can I have a word with you?" The words came out rather hurriedly as she stood in the doorway, though her tone was completely unidentifiable.

Rick didn't like the sound of those words and was incredibly suspicious; he didn't want to give her any more opportunities to launch into another long-winded talk. He responded with a short irritated huff as if to express the fact he wasn't interested, and he retrieved the baby harness from where he had dumped it outside the doorway, wanting to hasten his retreat.

Gresharak shook her head, knowing that he had a right to be grumpy after the conversation they had earlier in the day. "Look, I know you are trying as we all do. We all worry about the kind of job we are doing. We worry if we are being good parents and if our actions are negatively affecting the people we care about. However, that does not excuse my behavior today. I passed judgment too harshly and I cannot help but wonder what would have happened if I was not present. I feel that my being there only prolonged the suffering for both of you."

"Don't worry about it." Rick grunted back at her as he set Morty into the harness. Once he was satisfied that the little boy was secure, he carefully slipped his arms into the straps and hauled Morty over his back. "You had a valid point, t-that's all that needs to be said." He clipped the remaining straps firmly around his chest, his fingers lingering over one of the holes that had been made via shrapnel damage; it was yet another reminder of the situation they were in and made his mind wander back to the events that had taken place nearly a week ago. The scenes began playing out from his memory and he became quite distracted, his gaze distant.

Gresharak moved to stand in front of him, staring at his faraway expression. She found him a positively impossible creature to predict, and she was a little surprised he hadn't blown up. "Are you all right?"

Rick didn't answer her; his mind had zoned him out entirely.

The bird mother sighed. She could see that something was really troubling him and she guessed that it was because of what she had just said. She stepped in close and moved her arms around the willowy human, pulling him in close to her chest for a big crushing hug. "You are not going to appreciate this, but you could do with it anyway."

Rick was immediately snapped out of his thought processes and flailed his arms in immediate objection. "W-what the hell?!" He tried to get away, but she was holding onto him too hard. After she had released him, he stumbled backwards in disgust, immediately turning his attention towards straightening his lab coat and clothes; it was all he could do to redirect his annoyance. "Do you have ANY respect for personal space!?"

Gresharak stepped back, clutching her hands together, smiling at him, having found his awkwardness amusing to watch. "I am sorry for the grief I have caused you today, and I am also sorry that I judged you. I barely know you and I thought it my place to speak my mind. I am saying this because I care."

Rick flattened his brows as low as they would go, giving her the most unimpressed face he could muster, finding her sappiness almost nauseating to listen to. "It's just a word. You know that, right?" He turned around and headed for the rope ladder. "That word is so commonly overused that it has no meaning anymore. You truly wanna say sorry? Do it with actions, don't talk about it. Liquor says 'I'm sorry' SO much better than words." He paused after making his way down two steps to glare back at her. "And none of that horrible, seed-wine bullshit!"

Morty made happy noises as he peered over Rick's shoulder, his attention up on the bird woman. As he watched her position rise higher and higher with each ladder step that his grandfather took on the way down, he gave her a clumsy wave in their departure. He was finally happy again.

* * *

Being able to escape back to the privacy of his room had been more than a welcome relief for Rick. He had been mentally preparing himself all day for this moment and now it was finally time, he was going to invest a hundred percent of his attention and effort into demonstrating how sorry he was. His confidence in being able to manage the needs of the little boy that he was entirely responsible for had taken a huge beating today, and all he wanted to do was make the guilt go away. However, he was already aware of the fact that he might not be able to.

All he could do was try.

He turned the overhead light off; it would be too harsh for what he wanted to do right now. Once the lamp at his desk was on, he aimed it at the wall and adjusted it until the light of the room was to his liking.

He unclipped the baby harness and took Morty out of it, only to retreat with him to his roll-away cot; the little boy deserved some serious cuddle time. As he lay down on his back, he set the youngster at his chest and ignored the faint pain and intense itchiness that flared up all the way up his back as he pressed his body weight down onto his healing injuries. He knew that his sutures would probably need to come out soon, but he would leave them another couple of days before asking about it; he really didn't want to see that medic again if he could help it.

Morty responded positively to being on Rick's chest. He turned his head sideways, wasting no time to seek out the sound of his grandpa's beating heart where it was loudest at his sternum; he had always found it particularly soothing. Just being back with his favorite person and enveloped in his warmth and familiar scent made him dreamily content.

"I'm really sorry that I keep fucking you around, Morty..." Rick's voice was very quiet and miserable as he placed one hand on the little boy's back, the other on his head, idly running his hand through his soft hair. He'd been wanting to do this for a while, but had been denied of the ability to do so; it had simply hurt too much until now. "I just want to do right by you, but I keep failing at it..." His brows were creased in heavy regret as he carefully watched the little boy, relieved that he was willing to accept his presence again.

"How the hell do I keep managing to screw up so hard with you, little buddy?" As he watched his grandson, his mouth twisted into a guilty frown. Morty was a baby and may have easily let it go, however Rick's mind was far more complex and he simply couldn't, and he had completely lost faith in his ability not to do it again. "I-I keep hurting you somehow, but I don't want to. I'm not supposed to be doing this... tiny little guy like you makes my universe just that little bit more bearable. All you wanna do is be close to me, but I keep losing my shit. We're both having a rough time of it, but... I really have no right to keep doing this to you. You deserve so much better than me..."

Morty raised his head, his gaze deep in his grandfather's eyes now. He didn't understand why he was so upset, but he didn't like it.

"Do you... you think you could, y'know... try to behave a little more?" Rick's attention was locked on Morty as he placed both hands on the little boy's back, idly patting him as he continued to talk. "I'm trying, I really am, b-but you're not making it easy. You know everything I'm doing right now is for you, right? You're too young to understand that right now, but one day you're going to ask me what the fuck is going on, and... I don't even know how to begin that conversation..." He blinked hard, fighting back the desire to shed tears. He knew that he was only working himself up, but he had to speak his mind; the fact that Morty was so young and didn't understand didn't even matter anymore. He knew he could pick up on the tone and emotion in his voice and that was all he needed.

"It's really, really hard..." His expression was pained as he finally met Morty's gaze with his own. "I get where you're coming from, I need to do right by you. I-I love you, more than anything... y-you have no idea," he had to choke back a singular sob, "I can't even give you that properly, hell, I don't even know what I'm doing..." Both hands gently cuddled the little boy into his chest, holding onto him, not wanting to let him go. "I-I'm really sorry you're here with me now, kiddo. We're both so unbelievably fucked beyond redemption, and you know what's worse? W-what the fuck are we even gonna do once the portal gun is finished...? I... I have no idea... we're so screwed..." The first tears rolled down the sides of his face and he knew it was pointless to stop trying to hold them back. "I-I literally have no idea what to do..." His breath came out in pained, gentle sobs and he closed his eyes, no longer being able to stop himself. "I-I'm so sorry, little buddy..."

Morty wiggled out from underneath Rick's hands and sat up. He inched forwards and placed his little hands on both sides of Rick's wet face, peering down at him, wanting him to stop being so sad. He began mumbling to him in unhappy nonsense, wordlessly expressing his worry. In another moment he began to whimper, becoming miserable because he didn't want to see him so upset. He clumsily moved back to lay down into the crook of his grandpa's neck, wrapping his tiny arms around his neck, offering what little comfort he could.

Rick raised his hand up, running it down the length of Morty's spine. "Oh my god... what the hell did I do right to deserve you...?"

He didn't have an answer. Rick simply lay in the dim light of the room, the only sounds were his own soft pathetic noises and Morty's soft, little, raspy breaths. He cuddled the little boy because it was the only thing he wanted to do anymore; he was utterly broken, his heart was heavy, and his confidence had been completely destroyed.

It was in that moment he realized he needed the little boy almost as much as he needed him. And he was thankful just to have him there, even if the circumstances behind it all were utterly deplorable.


	10. Shafted

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights: ** This is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.

 **NOTE:** An 11k chapter straight from the depths of hell. Some of this was written while I was on hiatus and some of this chapter came from a request by Sillycritter.  
Ended up so big because of what had to go into it. Some of it was tedious AS HELL to write, but persistence paid off and it's finally done! Enjoy!

* * *

 _Soon enough it comes, here it is again_  
 _The slowly creeping hand of time and its command_  
 _Soon enough it comes, settles in its place_  
 _Its shadow in my face, undignified and lame_

 _This life, well it's slipping right through my hands_  
 _These days turned out nothing like I had planned_

 _Soon enough it comes to tie us down_

 _\- These Days - Powderfinger_

* * *

 **Chapter 10 – Shafted**

 **November 23rd, 6:12am Local Time, 2001  
** **Birdperson's Tree House  
** **Bird World, Dimension Unknown**

* * *

Rick had fallen asleep at some point with Morty nuzzled in the crook of his neck. Although the little boy had snored into his ear throughout the entire night, Rick couldn't have cared less; if it made him happy, then so be it.

As he woke up, the scientist felt bizarrely peaceful; getting everything off his chest had proven to be a very cathartic experience and the fact that his grandson had so willingly accepted him back was particularly freeing all by itself. There was a large trail of wet baby drool that had seeped down his neck and into his hair over the night but he didn't mind too much; after what had happened, Rick had given up to the point that he would simply accept anything Morty did to him. If he had any concerns about the fact he was becoming soft in his old age or too much of a pushover, they were certainly dashed by now; he was one hundred percent certain he was already there.

Maybe that wasn't even a bad thing.

The sound of heavy rain outside had been a factor in waking him up, but not unpleasantly so; it only added to his sense of peace and calm. He'd suffered through so many unnatural and unpleasant experiences over the past week alone that just hearing something so mundane as rain against the roof of the tree house brought a vague sense of normalcy back to his existence.

A muffled crack of thunder rolled through the heavily clouded sky somewhere overhead and Morty had woken up enough to grumble about it. Rick quickly settled him by patting him on the back; the last thing he wanted was for the little boy to wake up properly and start crying right next to his ear. When Morty seemed to calm again with relative ease, Rick was pleased and ruffled a hand through the youngster's hair. He did this partly to reward the behavior, but mostly because he just wanted to spend a little more time with him in the peace and quiet.

"Yeah, don't worry about it, kiddo." He told him in a low and gentle voice, not seeming to care in the slightest that he still appeared to be sleeping. "It's just a storm. It's nothing. It'll soon pass."

Now that Rick was more awake, his mind was already hard at work once again and pondering their next plan of attack. He was certain that if he only properly managed his time today, he could get the new portal gun to the point of being able to fire by the time the sun went down again. It was so close to completion now and it was positively driving him insane with eagerness.

Before he could think much more about time management, he felt a sharp, uncomfortable stirring in the pit of his lower gut. Rick sighed in annoyance and knew right away that this wasn't going to be something he could just ignore; he'd been eating nothing but root vegetables and hard fibrous grain since arriving on Bird World, and when things needed to move, they really did need to move.

Morty was in a good position to nudge off and the little boy didn't make a peep of protest when he was gently picked up and placed back down onto the cot. After making sure he was settled once again, Rick promptly got to his feet and retreated to the bathroom, needing to take care of the outstanding discomfort.

Unfortunately for him, Morty had been awake. The little boy sat up properly as he felt the weight beside him rise up from the mattress, only to watch his grandfather pace out of the room. He hastily pushed himself off the bed so he could follow, however, the bathroom door was already shutting by the time his short, little legs had allowed him to catch up. He began to bang on the closed door with his fists, whimpering in protest because he wanted to be in there with his favorite person. He had absolutely no concept of the word 'privacy'.

"Oh my god, Morty!" Rick called out to him from behind the door. "C-can't you give your grandpa five minutes of quiet time so he can take a shit!?"

Morty responded with another barrage of little fists on the door and even louder whimpering. "R-Rrriii!" He demanded, flattening his upper body against the door as if it would help somehow.

Rick lowered his head and conceded to the fact that he would just have to make Morty cry this one out; he didn't know how long he would be in there and he was mildly annoyed at the fact that there wasn't even anything to read.

The noise had already attracted the attention of Birdperson, who moved down the hallway and stood over the screaming child, staring down at him with bewilderment. He wasn't quite sure what the source of this one was just yet, but the small human was displaying unusual behavior indeed.

Morty ignored him and continued to pound on the door. He backed up, only to slam the weight of his whole upper body into the door again, escalating his noises of protest into full-blown crying.

"Rick, is this something I should be concerned about?" Birdperson asked suddenly. "I do not know what to do."

"How about just going away and leaving me alone, huh!?" Rick's frustrated voice yelled at him from the other side of the closed door. "Just leave him be, he'll get bored of it!"

Birdperson slowly nodded. "When you are ready, I have a glass bulb to give to you. It was delivered just after dawn, though you could be forgiven for not knowing when that was considering how overcast it is outside. The glassmith diligently worked on it all night because you needed it in a hurry. It was created to match your specification so I think you will be pleased."

Rick's anger seemed to have entirely disintegrated. "Oh, good news for once, huh? So what's the damage?"

Birdperson hesitated momentarily before his reply; he already knew that his friend was going to be upset. "The glassmith wants fifteen hundred schmeckles."

"Oh my god! Does he want both my balls, too!?" Rick's yelling voice echoed off the bathroom walls as he snapped back at him. "Holy fucking shit, w-where am I going to get that kind of money!?"

"Do bear in mind that most of the fee came from the fact that you needed it so soon, Rick. Do not worry, you will come up with a solution. You always do." Birdperson told him as he moved off down the hallway, leaving both Rick and Morty to what they had been doing. Though, he had to admit to himself that both humans were exhibiting such odd behavior that he found them to be even more strange and puzzling creatures than he had previously thought.

After another ten minutes, Rick felt much better about himself. After finishing up in the bathroom and washing his hands, he made a point of shooting a very-disapproving glare in the young boy's direction as he made his way back into the spare nest room. Although he was quite prepared to let his grandson do pretty much whatever he wanted, he still wanted to set boundaries and limitations.

Learning about privacy was going to be a very important lesson indeed. He didn't have the faintest idea how to start teaching it, or even if Morty's mind was developed enough to pick up the concept. It was quickly cast aside for more important thoughts.

Birdperson was already waiting for Rick at the workbench, the new plasma-containment bulb in his left hand. The scientist wasted no time snatching it up to inspect it under the light of the lamp on his desk, prepared to scrutinize every last millimeter to make sure it was up to his discriminating standards and genuinely worth the price being demanded of him. He plucked up a magnifying glass and scowled as he looked it over a second time, not seeming to mind when Morty thumped straight into his legs.

"Y-yeah, yeah, yeah..." Rick grumbled as he turned the bulb over in his fingers one last time, not being able to find a single flaw. He carefully dropped it onto the desk with the other portal gun parts and muttered under his breath in annoyance, tossing his magnifying glass across the desk on exhale. "Fifteen hundred fucking schmeckles it is. Tell him to give me two weeks..."

Birdperson nodded at him.

Rick's mind had let it go in another moment; it was what it was and he would have to accept it. He was already thinking ahead and his next words came out rather suddenly. "How easy is it to get into the ceramic kilns?"

Birdperson seemed confused; Rick was making yet another strange request, but he knew better than to ask. "How quickly do you need to get there?"

"As soon as possible," Rick shrugged in reply, "I also need to get into the metalworking shop so I can play with their forge. If I can get both of those things done today, we'll be all set. Then we can finally get out of your hair... uh... feathers?"

"I am taking off shortly as I have errands of my own to run." Birdperson's attention was out the nearest window and for just a moment he seemed ever so slightly unhappy. "I have already heard news that the weather will turn bad this afternoon, but it would not be a problem to drop you off. However, if you wish to remain safe, you will have to wait to be picked up again, possibly until after the bad weather has passed. It is an impossible feat to fly in heavy rain."

"Hrrrmpphh..." Rick scowled. "Give me another five minutes to take care of stinkbutt, he can come with. I... I-I can't really see any reason to leave him behind today," the scientist turned his attention down to the little boy still hugging onto his leg, "that is, if you can keep your goddamn mouth shut and play with the bribes I made for you."

Morty made a loud happy squeal in response despite the fact he had absolutely no idea what had just been said.

"Good," Rick grunted at him, "let's get this shit rolling."

After a quick diaper change, Rick stuffed Morty into the baby harness and clipped it up on his chest. He moved across the room and tore down some of his more recent gun blueprint designs, figuring that he could probably trade them off for something more useful. Next, he was back at the desk and picking up chunks of raw metal to throw into the backpack; he already knew the exact alloy ratios he needed to make the portal gun's metal containment casing layer and fully intended to take advantage of what he had available to him.

He just hoped the forge workers would let him play with their equipment; he would have to persuade them somehow.

Rick carefully packed away the portal gun parts and everything else he figured that he would need for the day and then he was out on the landing, the backpack lugged uncomfortably over his left shoulder. He had resigned to the fact that the setup made him look absolutely ridiculous, but it had become necessary in order for him and his grandson to function as a team.

As Birdperson picked them up and flew across the tops of the trees, Rick found amusement in the fact that Morty seemed absolutely thrilled to be in the air. Rick had done it so many times that it had lost its novelty, but seeing the little boy stare in wonderment like it was the best thing in the world brought a genuine smile to his face. He made a mental note to take Morty flying again in the future; he was sure they'd be doing it many, many times over the years to come if they were going to stay together.

Birdperson caught a sharp updraft with his wings and picked up speed, tearing across the landscape without a second thought. As soon as the small builder's district came into view below, he circled the airspace and made a cautious landing, being careful to drop the human and his precious cargo safely onto the ground in front of him.

Rick was thankful for the ride and after observing the distance from overhead, he knew that he would have wasted precious time just walking here. "Thanks, BP!" His tone was genuinely happy as he set his backpack down on the ground beside him. "I owe you one."

"No, you do not. And you never shall." Birdperson's reply was calm as he flared out his wings and took off again.

Rick sighed as he watched his best friend's form vanish over the height of the trees once again; it seemed that he was never going to shut up about being indebted to him. However, the scientist was quickly distracted by the area around him; several small, one-level buildings were teeming with activity and he had come here with a specific purpose in mind. Although he had no money, he fully intended to either trade away what he had brought with him, or throw his importance around and namedrop himself in order to pull favors. He didn't much like calling attention to what he had done for Bird World, but if it bought him something useful, then he was more than willing to abuse the tactic.

"You gotta stay close to me today, little buddy." Rick told Morty as he lightly drummed him on the head with the index finger of his right hand, his voice firm. "There's lots of shit that can hurt you out here and I don't want you getting lost." He picked the bag back up and headed straight in through the open doorway of the ceramic workshop. "I really mean it today, kiddo... stay where I can see you at all times. Got that?"

Morty responded with a delighted squeal, positively loving the game of being poked.

"What is the hatchling doing here?" One of the workers immediately grunted at the sound of the small child, his attention locked straight onto the strange, flightless biped in his work space, his expression turning suspicious. "No kids allowed." He stood up, reaching his full height. The male bird person puffed out his chest and ruffled out all his neck feathers in order to make himself look big and imposing.

Rick was utterly unfazed by the show of masculinity and simply narrowed his eyes in response. "He's with me, g-got a problem with that?" He growled back at him with just as much hostility, wanting to demonstrate that he wasn't about to be intimidated. "Do you know who I am? I'm Rick Sanchez, bitch. I'm the little human that saved your backwater dirtball of a planet. Show some fucking respect!"

The ceramic worker simply shrugged back at him. "We know who you are, the community has been talking about your return for days. Get to the point, why are you here? What do you want?"

"I wanna use your space to build something." Rick scowled back at him in irritation, though a part of him appreciated the fact that the other was uninterested in small-talk. "All I need is some tree-resin and clay - the same quality grade stuff you build armor out of. If I can get access to the kiln, I'll stay out of your way as much as I can. I've got too much shit to do and if you're not interested in who I am, I have stuff to trade if it will motivate you. So... you wanna barter, or are we gonna stand here all day? B-because I'm not leaving until I get what I want."

"Is that so?" The male's hostility evaporated and he suddenly seemed quite curious and interested in the human. "What have you got for me?"

Rick pulled out the first set of gun blueprints to show off, though the ceramic worker was completely uninterested. With a loud frustrated huff, the scientist laid out tools and screwdrivers onto the nearest workbench, dropping his own ionic soldering gun on the flat surface to the left of the clutter. Finally, he pulled out the disgusting bottle of cloudy wine that Birdperson had given him and set it down beside the other items, figuring that it couldn't hurt to put something familiar on display.

"If you want this," Rick made a point of tapping the soldering gun with an index finger, "it's gonna cost you big time. If you want any of the other shit, I don't care, take it. I-If you can wait a couple of weeks, I'll even pay you, hell... just let me use your space. I promise I'll be outta here as soon as possible."

To his complete surprise, the ceramic worker took the bottle of wine. Rick stared at him, wide-eyed; he hadn't expected that at all. He wasn't about to question it, though; if the guy wanted to drink terrible booze then that was on him. However, it did put his mind in two conflicting places; the bottle had come at no cost to him so that was no problem, but now he had nothing to drink all over again. He wished he had the sense to at least take a sip before handing it over.

Sobriety was never a good place for him to be because it always brought up some of the darkest thoughts and memories that he had done his best to suppress over the years. Rick quickly shrugged it off; he would deal with it later. As he picked the items back up, he stuffed them back into his backpack, keen to get to work.

Over the next hour, Rick experimented with resins and ceramic powders, mixing them up as he tried to work out the perfect ratio that would ensure that the final product would be high-heat resistant and shatter proof. Morty grumbled throughout the entire process; his grandfather was being boring and he couldn't move around or play with anything. Rick did his best to shut him up, but concentrating on doing the job well and keeping a baby entertained was a difficult act to balance.

After another hour had passed, Morty had fallen asleep, having decided it was a good time for a nap. Rick was relieved for the peace and quiet and used the time to sculpt the casing out in its entirety along with the small maintenance hatch he had incorporated into the design. It was still hollow and wet, which meant it would be extremely fragile until it was cured. He carefully set it down into one of the open, cold kiln shelves alongside other ceramic pieces that were ready for firing and slipped out of the workshop again, pleased with himself that he had finished one of the few remaining things he had left to do.

It was at this moment that he noticed that a heavy, cold breeze had picked up and that dark, ominous-looking storm clouds were looming on the horizon; Birdperson's prediction about the weather turning bad was right on the money. However, he couldn't possibly guess how deep the truth of that statement would become and shrugged it off like so many other thoughts as he headed for the metalworking shop, his mind far more occupied with getting things finished than the state of the sky overhead.

"OK, little buddy," Rick glanced down at Morty as he stood at the door, "you're being really good and I appreciate that. But this place we're about to walk into is r-UURRPP really fucking dangerous. There's lots of sharp pointy tools, hammers that can hurt you, and molten shit that could burn a hole through your flesh in an instant, s-so I need you to be on your best behavior for a few hours. Got that?"

Morty responded with a tired yawn and snuggled his head into the anti-puke guard of the baby harness, being able to hear his grandfather's muffled heartbeat through the layers of cloth and padding. He was warm and in a safe place, so little else mattered to him.

Rick shook his head and pushed his way inside, immediately being blocked at the doorway by a large muscular bird woman. As she held the door from being opened any further, she stared hard at him, her height towering over his lanky form.

"What are you doing? You should not be here." Her tone was harsh and unpleasant. "This place is going to be closed soon as the cloudwatchers have predicted a huge storm with hurricane force winds and flash flooding to the lowlands. They have said that the storm cell is going to pass right through this area. You would have to be completely crazy to consider staying here after receiving that kind of news."

Rick had to laugh at that; she obviously had no idea who he was. When he realized she was still staring at him, he shrugged his shoulders and launched straight into his next thought. "'Cloudwatchers'? I-is that some kind of superstitious bullshit you guys believe in?" The scientist placed his own hand on the door and continued trying to push it open. "Come on, lady, I'll be really quick. We'll be long gone before it arrives."

"No." She held the door in place, standing firm.

Rick attempted to give the door another shove, but she was much stronger than he was. "Come on, cut me some slack... y-you have no idea how important this is to me!"

The bird woman shook her head. "I mean it. I need to shut this place down and to make sure it does not get ruined by storm damage. This place is my livelihood and my hatchlings do not get fed if this place is not running in optimal form. You have young of your own, so surely you can understand that."

Rick was becoming frustrated and desperate. "Don't make me beg, please!" He stepped back from the door, locking eyes with her, glaring hard. "Do you even know who I am?" He paused, not wanting to push his luck and risk making her angry: he simply couldn't afford to be turned away. "Look... do you want me to help you lock the place down? What's it going to take to make you change your mind? I have shit I can trade you, I can pay you if you're patient enough... c-come on, help me out here, I really need this!"

The bird woman stepped back from the door, sighing as she conceded to the smaller creature's tenacity; his urgency seemed genuine enough. "Fine... but be quick. The only reason I'm letting you in here is because the forge is still hot," she paused, nodding at the child strapped to his chest, "but you have to leave your hatchling outside. The fumes in here can be overwhelming for us full-grown adults, let alone a small child. I would hate to see such a tiny, precious little thing be harmed by your own stupidity."

Rick's left eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. He had always hated being called stupid and had to bite his tongue to stop himself from exploding into a wild fit of anger; he wasn't about to risk increasing his chances of being kicked out.

"Fine, but... leave the door open so I can keep an eye on him, OK?" His voice was dangerous and low as he finally responded. He turned his back on her and took the wooden toys out of his lab-coat pockets, along with one of his flat-headed screwdrivers, figuring there was nothing harmful about it that could hurt his grandson. "Here you go, buddy, stay with these." He dropped the screwdriver and the toys on the ground just outside the doorway.

The stocky female nodded at him and repositioned the door so that it would stay open. "It is going to get windy and cold very soon. The forge will not go out if the door is open but you will need to work quickly."

"Yeah yeah, whatever!" Rick was fast losing what little composure he had managed to hold onto. "I'll show you the blueprints, you can see for yourself how critical it is that I finish this." He hurriedly took Morty out of the baby harness and placed him on the ground. "Do you hear me, little buddy? DON'T move."

Morty made small cooing noises in response and immediately sat his rump in the dirt. He picked up the tiny, wooden portal gun to turn over in his hands and despite the fact it didn't make noise, the bright colors were still enough to hold his interest, at least, for a short time.

"Good." Rick headed inside and dumped the backpack onto the top of the nearest workbench, ripping out one of the blueprints to wave at her. "See this? I need to make it as quickly as possible." He pulled out two large chunks of raw metal and practically slammed them down onto the table. In another moment he had a pen out and was hastily scratching out calculations across the top of the paper. "I have palladium and aluminum here. I don't know how common these elements are on your planet but I need to melt them down and make an alloy sheet, and then cut it out like this..."

The female bird person watched carefully as the strange wingless biped began working, and then stood over his other blueprints, immediately recognizing some of the older designs.

Meanwhile, Morty was fast becoming bored. He picked up the screwdriver, but it didn't make noise and there was nothing fun about it. With a clumsy backhanded pitch, he threw it straight into a patch of weedy bushes nearby, finding only momentary amusement in the activity. His interest was quickly captured by watching several spiked leaves skitter across the stoned pathway nearby as they were dragged through the air by rushing wind. It was at that moment he heard a harsh crack of lightning across the sky, and his attention was drawn towards one of Gresharak's hatchlings. He saw her running but couldn't understand why. He called out to her but she didn't respond.

Morty moved to his feet, feeling conflicted; he remembered something about being told to stay there, but as he peered back through the open doorway, he could already see that Rick wasn't paying even the tiniest amount of attention to him. All he could see now was that the spiky-haired man held up pieces of blue paper as he launched into a full explanation with a stranger about things that he couldn't even begin to comprehend or understand.

The little boy clutched the wooden portal gun toy tightly in his little hands as he ran across the open area, trying to catch up to the older child in a clumsy, uncoordinated run. He called out to her again as he chased her across the open area of the small village, this time much louder; he wanted to show her his new toy.

The female hatchling didn't seem to hear him. She simply continued her retreat, spooked by the loud storm activity that was developing overhead. She dove into some shrubbery at the edge of the village and began to cower in amongst the dense spiked branches, her entire body quivering with fear.

Morty became frustrated as he continued to follow, calling even louder as he moved straight into her space. The young boy made a sharp, wordless grunt as he held the portal gun toy out towards the little girl, wanting to share it with her.

The young female looked up, staring back at the little boy with wide, frightened, tear-stained eyes. "Morty...?" She squeaked at him, her voice very quiet. "Why are you here?"

Morty immediately replied with another loud, demanding sound, only one thought persisting in his baby thoughts; he thrust the small wooden toy into her feathery chest, poking her hard with it. Why didn't she find it as interesting as he did?

The little girl took the portal gun in one hand, confused by its foreign shape, not even remotely understanding its significance to him. "Are you lost? Where is your papa? Do not worry, I lost mine, too..." Before she could say any more, every feather on her body bristled at the sound of cracking thunder overhead and she took Morty by the hand, dragging him out of the bushes again. "We need to go!"

Morty was confused as the little girl grabbed him, and he stumbled as he was hastily pulled along with her. For a short moment he was worried that Rick would be mad, but it was quickly forgotten; this looked like a new game and he wanted to see where the girl was going to go. He ran with her pace as best as he could manage, using her steady grasp to keep himself balanced, not caring one whit about the bad weather. He was just happy to be led off to wherever she would take him.

* * *

Rick repeatedly brought a heavy, metalworking hammer down onto hot pliable alloy, smacking the shape down until it spread out. After many more coordinated whacks, he had molded the shape into a flat piece of metal sheeting. As he pulled the protective goggles up off from his eyes and set them on his forehead, he picked up a set of forceps to turn the sheet of metal over, taking a moment to admire his handiwork. It didn't last long, however; all it took was one look at the deteriorating conditions out the nearest window and he was back at it, positively determined to get as much done as possible before he was kicked out.

After another round of slightly-more-urgent hammering, he was finally satisfied and set the tools aside. He could already see that the bird woman was staring at him expectantly and he guessed it was a cue to indicate that his time was up. He yanked the heat-protective gloves off both hands and tossed them onto the bench beside the hot metal, immensely irritated; he had wanted to get so much more done.

"Y-yeah I know... time to go, right?" Rick's tone was bitter as he spoke. "I know when I'm not wanted."

"No. I have a blast shelter downstairs. It was built during the war and I use it for times like these. You can take your things downstairs until the storm passes." The female continued to stare at him, her expression growing concerned. "I was actually going to ask where your hatchling went... I did not see him come inside and he is not out there anymore."

"O-oh my god..." Rick's heart skipped a beat and he felt his blood run ice cold. He rushed to the doorway, but all he saw was the tiny, wooden spaceship, lying there all by itself on the soggy ground. "No... NO!"

"It is all right, he probably didn't get too far away." The female suggested, her voice quiet.

Rick ignored her entirely, her words not even registering in his mind. He picked up the wooden toy and stuffed it back into his lab-coat pocket, his eyes quickly scanning the immediate area outside the workshop. However, Morty was nowhere to be seen and the village was abandoned. "Morty? Morty!? Where the fuck are you!?"

"Maybe he came inside?" The female suggested again, her voice vaguely hopeful. "Hatchlings like to sneak and prowl, you know, mayb-"

"For fuck's sake, he isn't a hatchling!" Rick snapped harshly as he cut her off, the last shreds of his composure completely gone. "We're not like your species at all! He's not smart, h-he... he's a dumb little kid who hasn't developed enough sense to know what danger is. He's a walking meat sack that slobbers and shits itself!"

"Well I didn't mean t-"

"I don't give a rat's ass what you think!" Rick bellowed at her as he ran into the middle of the village, completely forgetting everything else he had just been doing. "Morty!? Where the hell are you hiding, y-you stupid piece of shit!?" He positioned both hands at the sides of his mouth and called out again. "MORTY?!" He scanned the immediate area once again, but saw nothing. It frustrated him immensely; Morty had been wearing bright yellow clothes, so he would have been obvious to spot.

Rick was becoming frantic, his mind growing completely irrational. This was completely beyond anything he had ever had to deal with before and it scared the hell out of him; every ounce of his being was worried for Morty's safety and he began panicking. He knew Bird World had predators and that a helpless little boy like his grandson would easily become a quick meal if the opportunity only presented itself.

He would NOT let that happen if he could help it.

Rick knew that if he didn't find him soon, he would perish relatively quickly; he was little more than a baby and far too young to take care of himself. He also knew the weather was only going to get worse and if the little boy was caught out in it, he would likely freeze to death; rain combined with gale-force winds would sap the life out of anything that was dumb enough to stay out in it.

Dark rain clouds were swollen overhead and rumbling thunder accompanied them, threatening to break loose at any moment. He didn't care. He began running as if his life depended on it, disappearing into the dense underbrush beyond the village. His voice became harsh and sore as he called the same thing out over and over again in his desperation.

"Morty?"

"Morty?!"

"MORTY!?"

* * *

Rick continued running, the tail of his lab coat flaring out behind him. His eyes constantly scanned the dense forest as he went on, looking for a flash of yellow amongst the trees, a different color, any kind of sign, anything even remotely different that wasn't a plant or a rock. For how long he ran, he didn't know. He wanted a drink. He felt nauseated. He wanted to throw up but couldn't; he didn't have time to waste on such things anyway.

At that moment, there was a deafeningly loud crack of thunder overhead and a torrent of rain belted down from the heavens above. In less than three seconds, Rick was saturated from head to toe; his cold clothing uncomfortably clung to him and his hair was completely flattened in wet soggy clumps.

As he kept running, his muscles burned like they were pumping battery acid. He pushed through it and kept going, his travels taking him into dense temperate forest. He still hadn't found anything yet and his mind was beginning to conclude that the situation was probably beyond hopeless already; he wasn't even sure which direction Morty had run off to in the first place, let alone how to find him without any kind of directions, instructions, or tracking devices.

Rick heavily leaned his weight against a giant, hundred-year-old oak tree as he came to a stop, completely worn down by running and the fact that he had worked himself up into such a state of panic. As the scientist buried his face in his hands, his mind began to give in to despair and he mentally berated himself for being inattentive as well as being so stupid as to put his work before the needs and safety of his family. It was what he had always done, it was just habitual. It had never done him any favors and it certainly wasn't doing him any now; it may have just cost his last living relative his own life.

"Stupid... s-so fucking stupid..." The spiky-haired man slumped down, his back scraping against tree bark as he sank into a defeated sitting position. The sound of heavy rain thrashed down all around him and he began to shiver as the harsh cold sapped the heat out of his soaking-wet body and clothes; he still didn't care. He couldn't have cried at this point even if he had wanted to; his mind was giving up. If Morty was gone, he was completely done. He literally had no reason left to continue existing.

A faint cry suddenly rose above the cacophony of the storm and Rick sat bolt upright, his eyes widening in momentary hope; it sounded just like a child's voice. He held his breath as he waited for another and then began to wonder if he was going crazy, or if his mind was playing cruel tricks on him.

When he heard it again, he was back up on his feet and running all over again, heading in the direction of the sound with renewed energy. "Morty? I-is that you? Oh god, call back to me, buddy! C-come on, where are you!?"

The sound brought Rick into a clearing amongst dense trees and his heart sank at his next discovery; one of Gresharak's hatchlings was shivering out in the open and crying for help in between her sobs. She was utterly miserable and her feathers made a pathetic attempt to puff out and retain heat, though she was completely drenched and it did nothing for her.

Rick shook his head and made his way over, crouching down in front of the little girl. "H-hey. You OK there?" Of course he knew she wasn't but it was all his mind could think of to say in the moment. "Let's get out of here, huh?"

The feathery, little female nodded back at him, teary-eyed. "I do not know where papa is..."

He placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to console her. "Try not to think about it. I don't know where we are, but that's never bothered me before. If you stick with me, I'll help you get back to him, O-OK?" Rick watched her closely, his expression turning serious. A powerful sense of guilt began to overcome him; she really wasn't who he had wanted to find at all, but he just didn't have it in him to leave her to die out here.

As he stood up again, he bent down to pick her up in his arms, another wave of guilt washing over him as he was reminded of a time when his own daughter was this small; he'd never held any love for her when she was a baby and he had resented the fact that such a screaming, tiny demanding creature had robbed him of all his free time and his very identity. He knew it was a stupid inopportune time for such a memory to intrude his thoughts, but he had difficulty in trying to put it out of his mind again.

The little girl seemed to relax for a moment, but then began to wiggle in protest again, upset as she was from the moment the human had found her in the first place. "No! We cannot go yet," she pointed to the hollow of a log nearby, "Morty is hiding in there!"

Rick's eyes widened as he stared at her, then his eyes immediately followed the line of her hand. Sure enough, he saw a scrap of dirty yellow amongst the pile of mud and plant debris inside the log; his grandson was curled up in a tight ball, his little body shuddering in the cold.

"O-oh my god... he was with you the WHOLE time?!" Rick was yelling now, but he wasn't angry at all. He set the girl down again, perhaps a little too roughly for her liking, and promptly dashed over to the log to reach in and drag Morty out by the scruff of his shirt. The tiny boy came out rather easily, though he was already grumbling in protest to being moved.

Rick promptly held him at arm's length, his expression wild and dangerous. Although he was more than glad to see the little boy alive, part of him just wanted to murder him for the stress he had just put him through. "What the HELL did I say to you, Morty?!" He was screaming, though the fact that he was still very much upset and worried quickly came back to the surface. "How many fucking times did I tell you to stay put? A-and yet, y-you couldn't even follow one simple instruction!? Do you have ANY idea what I've just been through? H-how could you DO THIS TO ME?!"

Morty stared back at Rick, wide-eyed and very upset. He knew he was in trouble and began to cry, flailing his arms out towards his grandfather in a pathetic display of guilt, begging for mercy, wanting to be hugged and to be forgiven. He had already been wet and cold to begin with, but being exposed to the harsh winds again made him shiver even more so than he had been before; he was miserable in every sense of the word.

"Just.. s-stop scaring me like that, OK?" Rick's voice was still harsh as he cuddled the little boy hard into his chest, clinging onto him, incredibly relieved just to have him back. Although he was angry at himself for upsetting him again, he was also incredibly frustrated; Morty needed to know that what he had just done was NOT acceptable under any circumstances. As he felt Gresharak's hatchling tug at the sopping-wet fabric of his pant leg, he looked down at her, his attention immediately falling on the wooden toy she was offering up to him.

"He dropped this..." The little girl shivered.

"Hah, you still have it, huh? Good." Rick took the tiny portal gun toy and stuffed it back into his pocket, momentarily amused by its presence. "If it was a real one, w-we would be out of here so quickly... what a pity." He awkwardly shifted Morty onto one shoulder and reached down to pick the girl up as well, somehow balancing both of them in each arm.

"We... we really need to get out of here, n-not even remotely kidding..." Rick told them as he shook his head, clearing his mind of all the conflicting thoughts running through it; how he felt about Morty running off didn't matter anymore. His voice shifted towards serious and authoritative, his mind now racing with all the survival strategies he had learned over the years. "W-we're going to die if we stay out here. So both of you, hold on and shut the fuck up so I can think..."

He took off again, this time moving at a brisk pace, pushing through all the fatigue and exhaustion he was feeling. There was nothing he could do to shield the small children from the full extent of the storm, yet he hunched his upper body over and tried anyway. For a moment he thought about turning back the way he had come to return to the village, or perhaps the tree-house community, but he didn't know how long that would take and storm damage would have likely changed the terrain far too much for him to recognize it. He also didn't know how much longer the small children in his arms could tolerate being pelted by the elements and it was already troubling him. He was uncomfortably cold and shivering himself and he knew that he would be more resilient to the deteriorating conditions simply because he was older and had more mass; that was a matter of basic science.

Rick headed further into the dense underbrush of old-growth rainforest, hoping that the thicker mass of ancient trees could do a better job of holding out against the storm and provide more of a buffer from the harsh winds. His shoes squelched through thick mud and rotting plant debris and there wasn't any kind of path or walkway, yet he made his way through anyway, forcing his way over dead branches and large uneven rocks. Some of them were loose but he kept his balance, his eyes constantly scanning the area around him for some kind of cover. He heard century-old tree branches groaning and protesting high above and the sounds of other far off branches snapping and cracking, their old boughs finally succumbing to the unabated forces of nature above.

Gresharak's hatchling protested to the sounds all around her, finding them absolutely terrifying to listen to; everything in her instinctive programming was screaming at her to run away. However, she decided to hold fast onto the strange human, even though it made no sense. She was vaguely calmed by Rick's steady, determined pace; he seemed to be very confident, at least outwardly. Either he was totally crazy, or he knew something that she didn't. She went quiet as she decided to trust in his level of expertise and knowledge, because there was little else she could do for the time being.

Rick continued his hastened pace, his expression steeled into firm determination, defiant and stubborn as he pushed through everything else he was feeling; survival was the only thing that mattered now. He knew that many others would probably lose their lives in the hours ahead, either by being caught out in it, being hit by lightning, or perhaps by being crushed by their own tree houses. Maybe they would drown if they were unfortunate enough to be caught up in the flooding.

He did not want to become part of that statistic.

A massive grove of conifer-like trees was up ahead, probably centuries old. Rick made note of the fact that there was less storm damage in the area and headed into it, though he quickly regretted his choice as he observed that water was rapidly spreading across the forest floor. It rushed past him as it picked up rocks and plant material and in a matter of seconds his feet were already six inches below water.

"Fuck..." Rick hissed, his jaw clenched shut just to keep his teeth from chattering. "A river must have broken somewhere... damn it!"

He stopped, scanning the area again, his attention immediately falling on an incline in the terrain ahead. If this patch of rainforest was going to flood, he needed to get to higher ground and fast; while he was more than capable of swimming, he knew for a fact that birdpeople couldn't and neither could Morty. Swimming with two terrified children clinging onto him while he was already freezing wasn't something he wanted to deal with.

His pace quickened and he soon broke into a run; Rick didn't have the faintest idea where the incline would take him but there was no way they could risk staying there. He was soon rewarded with slightly-less-mushy soil underfoot as he continued following the hill, becoming somewhat calmer when it suddenly steeped upwards.

Once at the top, his range of visibility was slightly better. He took another look at his surroundings, trying to determine where to go next, though he had to admit he had no plan and each of his choices thus far had been blind, uninformed guesses.

Both Morty and the girl were shivering as they hugged against the spiky-haired man, which only urged him to press on as they were clearly running out of time. He tracked across more ground, his travels taking him into a valley formation that had been eroded over time by the body of water at its lowest point. His eyes were already on the violent cascading river flowing at the bottom and he looked high above him, making note of an even larger steep incline, solid and steep enough to be considered a cliff; it was covered in small shrubs and ferns that haphazardly grew out amongst the scree all the way up the side. His eyes scanned the higher ground as he looked for anything that remotely resembled shelter; a cave in the side, a gap under under a tree root system, anything.

It was at that moment he found their salvation; a large, spotted predator prowled hastily across the unsteady ground, agitated by the rain. It snarled and made no effort to hide itself as it retreated, seeming to have no trouble as it deftly made its way across the scree. The predator's long, spindly tail flicked out behind it as it disappeared into a small den it had dug out in the side of the cliff.

Rick narrowed his eyes as he watched its every move, his mind going into overdrive. He knew the scree would make movement difficult, but the mouth of the predator's den was easily twenty feet above the current height of the river. He didn't know whether to risk using it or not, but if the river was going to rise that high, then he could just leave again and deal with as it came, just as he had always done. Although he wasn't entirely certain if the hole of the den would be big enough to fit him, it was definitely large enough to fit the two children he was carrying. The scientist shifted his gaze back towards Morty and the feathery girl, watching them shiver. They simply clung onto him, at his complete mercy. He didn't want to keep subjecting them to the cold and that hole was the best option he had right now.

Rick walked down the other side of the hill, carrying them across to a fallen tree, its innards chewed out by decay. He placed both children down and wasted no time stuffing them into the hollow log in the attempt to shield them from the cold. He was already resolving his mind to a half-assed plan that was utterly, utterly crazy, but it was all he could think of.

"OK... s-shit's about to get serious and I need you both to be very quiet," Rick's voice suddenly became authoritative and parental, and he took a moment to narrow his eyes hard at Morty as he spoke again, "you especially, kiddo. I need you to shut up more than ever, d-don't let anything hear you. This is a life or death situation and you'll kill us all if this fucks up. G-got that?"

Morty didn't respond; his grandfather was being angry again and it upset him. He offered no protest except for tiny whimpers at the back of his throat as he was placed inside the log, prepared to shut up and do whatever he was told just because he just wanted to get out of there.

The little girl nodded at the scientist's instructions and blocked the entrance with her body, using her wings to buffer Morty from the worst of the cold bite in the wind.

Rick offered her a vague grin, genuinely pleased that she seemed so concerned about the little boy's well being. He knew his trust in her would not be misplaced and the small gesture only cemented his desire to protect her as well.

"You, feathers," he crouched down outside of the entrance to the log, the tail of his already-drenched lab coat becoming even more fouled up by the sloppy wet mud all around him, "you're older than Morty, so in my absence you're the one in charge. I need you to keep him quiet and make sure he stays in there with you until I get back. D-do you think you can manage that?"

The little girl nodded once in agreement.

"Good," Rick narrowed his eyes harshly as he returned his attention to the mouth of the den, mentally steeling himself for what he was about to do, "because Grandpa has to go and kick some ass."

He rose to his feet again and began to bound across the valley. Rick took the small whittling knife out of his lab-coat pocket once he was across the river and wasted no time scrambling up the other side. His wet, soggy clumps of hair partially obstructed his vision and he nearly lost his footing several times on the hundreds of tiny loose rocks underfoot, but once he was at the entrance to the predator's den, he began to taunt the creature inside in the attempt to lure it out.

"Knock, knock, bitch!" He panted the words out, a wild toothy grin coming over his face; this plan was utterly insane and he knew it. "Something's about to die, a-and it sure as FUCK ain't gonna be me!"

The large, spotted animal made a loud warning hiss and immediately appeared at the mouth of the hole, lured by the fact that prey would so brazenly challenge it at the front door of its own home. The beast saw an easy meal and rushed forwards to charge at the human with outstretched clawed paws, but Rick was quicker; he darted out of the way and once it was within striking distance, he sprang straight onto its back, slamming it down with his entire body weight.

Both creatures began to tumble out of control as they fought down the scree, but Rick held on as claws flew at him. With one hand tightly gripping the pathetic little knife, his other arm was locked around the cat-like creature's torso as he stabbed it with every ounce of his strength, repeatedly plunging the blade into its ribs with careless abandon until the beast was finally weak enough to stop fighting him.

Rick put his feet out and dug his heels into the ground once the struggle was over, trying to slow his rate of descent. He finally came to a halt with the dead beast nearly three-quarters of the way down the scree and simply sat there for a moment to catch his breath again, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through his bloodstream.

"H-holy shit... I can't believe that actually worked..."

He was scratched up and bruised from the scuffle but felt nothing; there had been no joy in killing the beast or any sense of victory in what he had just done. He reached across and sliced open the creature's throat; if it was going to give him refuge from the storm at the cost of its life, then he didn't want it to suffer any more than it had to. As he carefully got to his feet again, he realized that wanting to give the creature a quick death meant his humanity was still very much intact and well. He kicked the spotted creature and it rolled the rest of the way down the scree like a rag doll, the dead corpse plunging straight into the rushing river below.

"Ah, shit!" He hissed, suddenly regretting what he had just done, "I could have probably eaten that... o-oh well."

He was covered in clumps of mud and his clothes were spattered with blood thanks to the encounter, but a quick trip back through the rising river and fresh torrents of rain washed most of it off again.

In another moment, he was back at the hollow tree log and the little girl hatchling stared at him, deathly afraid. When he made another step forward, she squealed in protest. He was taken aback by the sound; she had responded so positively to his presence before and simply couldn't understand the sudden change of mind.

"What's wrong?" Rick grunted at her, quickly catching himself as he realized he sounded too angry. "We don't have time for this, feathers. We... we need to get out of here, don't you see how serious this is? The river is probably going to keep rising and this entire area will likely be underwater soon. Come on, what's wrong? I can't possibly be that scary."

The little girl shook her head. "You killed it... you killed a prowler. I watched you. It.. it didn't have to die."

"Oh, that? W-wait, you actually feel sorry for it?" Rick raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling awkward. "Well, uh... don't those things hunt your kind down? I mean, both Birdperson and your mom said that you're at risk of being eaten by predators like that." His eyes narrowed slightly, his tone becoming firm. "You're lucky it was me fighting it and not you."

"Yes, but... it didn't have to die. You could have... have shooed it away..." She seemed entirely uncertain of herself.

"Think about it this way, kiddo," Rick carefully reached in to pick up the feathery little girl again now that she wasn't trying to back away from him anymore, "it was either it or us. Because I killed it, only one thing has to die today. If we don't take its shelter, all three of us will be dead by nightfall. So if you have to make peace with ending a life, thank its spirit for keeping us safe. O-or... or some shit like that. I don't know, don't you worship clouds and stuff?"

The little girl stared at him, utterly confused. "No...?" She leaned against him in an effort to get warm again. As she hugged onto the strange human, she knew that they were both sopping wet and it would do absolutely nothing for her, but it still felt right somehow. "How... how much further is it?"

"Soon, kiddo, s-soon." Rick muttered as he crouched down to grab Morty out of the log, noting that he was really cold and barely moving. "Ah shit, keep it together, buddy... a-are you still with me?"

Morty's response was a single pathetic squeak of noise. He was still shivering, but he was starting to slow down and all he wanted to do was go to sleep.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Rick started back the way he had come, realizing that they were completely out of time. Although the river was still rising he waded through it, not making a peep of protest as he rushed back up the other side.

"C-come on, we're nearly there. It's fucking freezing out here..."

After precariously making his way back up the scree, which was a feat in itself while still carrying two children, Rick set both of them down and shoved them straight into the open mouth of the den. He attempted to cram himself inside after them, shoving them along none-too-gently as he went. His shoulders barely fit and it was a very uncomfortable squeeze up the entry chamber, but now that his mass was blocking most of the tunnel, there was barely any wind chill able to get past him. This was a good thing, though; it meant they had a fighting chance at survival.

The female hatchling made loud noises of protest; the lingering smell of predator was strong and almost overpowering. She made loud screeches in her panic and slammed her body back into Rick's shoulder, trying to force him out of the way.

"No, the other way, the other way!" Rick hissed, irritated with her irrational behavior. "G-get it together, feathers, t-there's nothing in here to be afraid of. I k-killed the previous owner, the largest predator in this hole is me..." He was still shivering and slowing down, but it wasn't affecting his judgment, at least, not yet.

"It smells like it is still here!" The feathered hatchling cried at him.

"N-no, it isn't!" Rick bared his teeth. He pulled a small flashlight from his lab-coat pocket that he often used to inspect things, and after turning it on, he forcefully thrust it into her small hands. "S-see for yourself..."

As Gresharak's hatchling shined the flashlight through the tunnels and chambers of the lair ahead of them, the beam of light gave Rick most of what he needed to know; the den tunnel became wider the further in it went. The deepest parts of the tunnel system looked old and well worn. There was no way that the predator could have dug all of this out by itself and further evidence was given by the fact that older sections of the lair had been scratched out of solid black granite.

"Take Morty along with you, and... a-and hurry the fuck up..." Rick instructed her as he continued down the tunnel, dragging his entire weight along as he crawled on his forearms. The scientist quickly discovered that the further back they ventured, the warmer the tunnel became – it was completely dry and the granite had retained latent heat from the day. Things only got better from there; a wide tall chamber sloped three feet upwards at the very back of the den and there was a high ledge heaped with something he couldn't identify just yet. He quickly concluded it must have been a nest or some kind of bedding, which was exactly what he had been hoping for.

Rick could only just barely twist himself around into an uncomfortable seated position once at the back wall of the den. He picked Morty up and forced him onto the ledge, shoving him backwards. He did the exact same thing with the little girl and leaned his back against the slope, sighing as he tried to relax. He knew for a fact that he couldn't fit up there along with them, but didn't care because they were much smaller and needed to warm up faster than he did. If they were safe and warm, that was all that mattered.

He had stopped shivering by now and knew that was a very bad sign; it meant that his mind was going to slow even further as hypothermia set in, but just being out of the rain again made him feel so much happier. He was thankful for being a scrawny little weed of a man; if he had been more muscular or fatter, he wouldn't have fit in the first place.

"Use the flashlight. What do you see up there?" Rick wanted to know for certain that they were going to be all right. "G-give me your best description..."

"Um..." The little girl went quiet and flicked the beam of light around. "Dried leaves? Dried mud. Lots of feathers. Lots of prowler fur... it is really warm up here."

"G-good," Rick mumbled, "that's... that's exactly w-what I wanted to hear." He knew what he wanted to say next, but still had some mild difficulty piecing the next set of words together. "L-listen to everything I tell y-you, OK? Strip everything off. Then... t-then do the same to Morty," he paused for a moment, adding, "i-if he protests, f-fight him if you have to... I doubt it though, he... h-he doesn't like wearing pants."

The little girl stared down at him. "You want us to get naked?"

Rick cringed a little; no matter how he thought about it, that statement sounded so wrong coming from a prepubescent little girl. "Y-you have a better chance of drying off and warming back up i-if you do that. D-do you understand?"

Rick waited for a response, but there was none. He saw Morty's wet garments land onto the ground beside him, and then a soggy diaper. Then the hatchling threw her own clothes off and added them to the wet pile beside him.

"Smart kid..." He mumbled aloud as he took off his sodden lab coat and shirt, refusing to do any more. Even though he was colder than he could ever remember, it was still somehow wrong and embarrassing to think about having no pants on and his private parts exposed for anyone to see. If he was going to die, he certainly didn't want to be found dead and naked inside a hole with two young children.

Rick lightly thumped his head back against the den wall, frowning at the fact that the gauze padding all over his back was soaking wet. It was incredibly uncomfortable and itchy, but at least it was something that his slowing, chilled mind could focus on. He felt incredibly sleepy, so he began trying to calculate equations in his head just to keep himself awake; going to sleep now was the last thing he could afford to do, both for his sake and the young children on top of the ledge. If they needed to move out of the hole in a hurry, Rick knew he would need to be awake in order to take charge of the situation. He also knew for a fact that if he allowed himself to slip into unconsciousness, he may risk never waking up again.

All the scientist could do now was wait; he had always been in control and was somebody who always had a plan. But he certainly didn't feel that way now, and he absolutely hated it.


	11. Rickovery

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights: ** This is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.

 **NOTE:** This one came out of nowhere. Chapter 11 was actually finished before 10, I started stagnating over some of the descriptions in 10 and wanted to keep going, and before I knew it, this one was finished first. Tidied for grammar/repeats.

* * *

 _Give 'em hell, turn their heads, gonna live life till we're dead  
_ _Give me scars, give me pain, then just say to me, say to me, say to me  
_ " _There goes a fighter. There goes a fighter, here comes a fighter."_

 _That's what they'll say to me, say to me, say to me - "This one's a fighter."_

 _\- The Fighter - Gym Class Heroes_

* * *

 **Chapter 11 – Rickovery**

 **What date is it? What time is it? Something, something, 2001**  
 **Location? A fucking hole in the ground!  
Look, it's dark, OK? Who cares what dimension it is?**

* * *

His mind was too cold and much too far away; at least it had finally shut up for once in his life.

How long had he been here now? Rick couldn't remember, but had managed to fight through the desire to fall asleep the entire time. His vision was a blurred haze as he lowered his head and a copious amount of drool trailed down his lower lip and chin. He couldn't feel his limbs anymore, let alone move them. When he heard loud screeching somewhere above him, it only vaguely registered in his mind. He heard it again and it wasn't making sense; those sounds didn't seem like words.

 _"What a pathetic way to die,"_ he thought to himself, _"Spend years of your life murdering bureaucrats... only to survive planetary genocide and... freeze to death inside a fucking hole in the ground..."_ The only other thought that penetrated his cold-addled mind was Morty's well being and he hoped the little boy was still alive up there on the ledge.

He didn't know. Morty certainly wasn't making any noise and Rick couldn't see him even if he wanted to; it worried him immensely.

Next he heard scraping, scratching, digging, and the sound of metal scraping across rock, over and over. More screeching. There were more sounds and muffled talking. He could hear rushed, padded footsteps as Gresharak's hatchling ran down the length of the den, but she sounded like she was distant and underwater at the same time. He heard her chirping and making all kinds of noises; some of them may have been words, but she was already too far away for him to make any cognitive sense out of them.

"Are you the human known as 'Rick'? Is that really you down there?" An unfamiliar voice echoed down the length of the dirt tunnel.

That was a word he recognized; of course Rick knew who he was. He opened his mouth to respond, but only a loud, stupid, slurry, resonate phonetic came out. He sounded so weak and pathetic; just how far gone was he? This was nothing like being drunk.

"It is all right, Rick. We know you are in there, Lakkarah has just informed us of the situation. We are trying to dig you out. It should not be much longer. Stay where you are, yes?"

A positively stupid instruction; he was literally incapable of doing anything else. Rick lifted his head towards the source of the voice and even in the throes of hypothermia he was still stubborn enough to want to protest. He was suddenly pelted with giant clods of dirt and his retinas were stabbed by intense blinding sunlight. He couldn't move his arm to block it out and snapped his eyes shut in protest, furrowing his brow in pain.

"Ffff..."

Just as quickly as it had come, the light was gone again as a dense heavy warm blanket was thrown over him. He was promptly assaulted by another and then he felt himself being picked up off the ground and moved around at weird angles as somebody tried to remove his pants. Rick used all his effort to make a loud vocal protest; even though he knew they were trying to help, he wanted to object to the violation of his person.

"Stop fighting it. I need to strip off all your wet garments in order to warm you back up. Stay awake if you can manage it because it is very important. Can you hear me? Do you understand? Respond if you can."

Rick made a singular weak grunt in reply, still very much frustrated at the fact that his body just wouldn't respond for him. He wanted to move and get out of there, but he would have to concede to the fact that he was utterly useless for the time being.

"Excellent. That is very good. Keep listening to me, Rick. Focus on every instruction that I give to you. It is imperative that we get you out of here as soon as possible. You are going to be just fine, so try not to worry."

Even through all the haze and slowness, Rick felt incredibly annoyed about that statement. He was being told what to do yet again; nobody told him what to do. He wanted to give them a piece of his mind, but the words just wouldn't come out.

"Is it safe to move him? Is he going to die?"

"Not if we act quickly. I think we have gotten here just in time. Just think, if another hour had passed, he might not be so lucky."

Time: what time was it? Rick could only tell the sun was back out, which meant that the storm must have passed already. He still hadn't heard Morty make a peep, and he was growing increasingly more concerned by the minute.

"How different is he from us? I am not sure how to treat this. What should we do with him? This is the first human I have ever dealt with."

"He is not that different to us from a biological perspective. You might think of him as fragile but I have been assured that humans are robust and incredibly resilient. He has no feathers or wings to speak of but his skeletal structure is similar and his genitals are more or less the same, just smaller. If his condition was not at risk of deteriorating further, I would suggest taking a look to sate your own curiosity." The owner of the voice laughed.

Rick's eyebrow twitched; if he were capable of forming coherent sentences right now, he would have absolutely royally ripped into both of them.

"We need to get him to a warm dry shelter as soon as possible. He needs to be gradually warmed back up and then we can go from there."

"Where does he live?"

"Wait, I know!" Gresharak's hatchling was the only voice he could recognize. "He lives in my neighbor's house. We are part of the northern flock."

"Should we take him to the medic? He might be better suited to deal with this."

Rick protested with a weak, angry sound; that was the last thing he wanted. He couldn't focus his eyes well enough to put faces to the voices, but he knew he already hated these people and wanted to punch them in the face.

"How is his child faring? He did find him again, yes?"

"He's still in the den," Gresharak's hatchling was eager and excited to help now, "want me to get him?"

"If you could. That would be wonderful."

The world around him was quiet again, and then a loud, defiant, ear-piercing scream drowned everything else out. Rick's mind could finally relax again; if Morty was feeling aggressive enough to protest with that much volume and fervor, then he was definitely alright.

"Well, if that is everyone in your traveling party, we shall take care of this one and depart before the weather turns bad again."

Rick felt himself being tilted backwards and then bound up snugly in the blankets that had been thrown over him. He wanted to protest and tell them he wasn't a baby, but he still couldn't get the words out. He gave up and closed his eyes, finding it harder to keep his head up as the desire to fall asleep became more difficult to fight.

"Stay with us, Rick. Try to remain awake as your awareness is very important. I know it is hard but the alternative is worse. Are you still with us?"

Before he could respond, he heard a rushed flurry of feathers accompanied by a harsh landing and loud screechy sobbing. "Oh, how could this happen!? HOW could this happen!? Oh, why did he take my baby girl all the way out here, far away from our home? She could have died!"

That voice was identifiable - Gresharak. _"Fucking great..."_ Rick thought. Was she pissed at him? He hoped not; he had put Morty and her young girl's survival well above his own, and now he was paying the price for it. He wanted to explain his reasoning and to make her shut up. She had always been too loud since he had met her, but right now her screechy voice was being especially grating on his senses.

"The only reason I'm still with him is because of our children. He's going to end up SO single before the end of the breeding season, let me tell you that!" A pause. A tinier, high-pitched chirp not her own. "Thank the stars that you are alright. I am just glad to see you safe, my precious little girl..." More screechy crying.

Well, at least that had answered his question.

"We cannot stay here as we are wasting valuable time. I am glad you got your girl back, but take her home and see to it that she is checked over, just to make certain that everything is fine."

Rick felt a warm hand brush up against the side of his face, and it lingered as it caressed his cheek. He furrowed his brow in protest and tried to turn his head away, not at all appreciating the gesture. The hand tracked along with his movement and he made a pathetic growl in disapproval.

"You are so cold... I would give you a hug to warm you up if I could. You have done so much more today than you could ever know, I just hope you realize that. You... you saved my only baby girl. The flock will not soon forget this, I will make sure of it. We will do everything in our power to make sure you get everything that you need."

Rick gritted his teeth, feeling disgusted; yet another stupid bird person who thought she owed him everything. He had only done what anyone else would have in his situation and because it had felt right. Gresharak was holding his head up now, her warm hand ruffling through his scruffy, dirty, powder-blue hair.

"You are in dire need of a bath. You look like you have traversed the bottom layer of the underworld, which is pretty much what happened, yes? You also smell like compost."

Rick tried to focus his eyes on her, scowling; he had just been dug out of the ground, so how was she expecting him to smell? He closed his eyes again when he discovered that his vision was still far too blurry and uncoordinated.

"You need me to take Morty again for a while, yes?"

"M-mmm-ph..." He managed a short nod as he forced out the reply, not being able to manage much more as two sounds had taken a lot of effort. He wished he could say more and make hand gestures, but he was so tightly bundled up that it wasn't possible. He gave a short huff in his frustration and gave up.

"Carry the hatchlings. I will take this one. Lead the way."

And just like that, the bird person carrying him was up in the air, flapping hard. Although he still didn't appreciate being swaddled up like an infant, the two thick blankets were completely protecting him against wind shear; they had obviously thought about that one. Now that he was finally safe, the desire to fall asleep was almost overwhelming and he couldn't fight it anymore. His head lulled back and he was still, his breathing becoming dangerously slow.

"Rick?"

* * *

The first sense to return to him was smell; there was a strong charcoal and wood-fire aroma in the air and although it wasn't unpleasant, it quickly burned the inside of his nose. Next came sound and he heard quick footsteps pacing across a wooden floor. It was too loud and he was already aware enough to be grumpy about it.

"Hey, look. Is he waking up? I think I saw an eyebrow twitch." A youthful high pitched voice that vaguely sounded like a prepubescent male; he didn't have a clue who that one was. "Can I poke him?"

"No. And keep your voice down." A calm monotone voice was momentarily betrayed with firmness - unmistakably Birdperson's. "I have known him many years and I can assure you that it is normal. It is not uncommon to see him make involuntary muscle movements, especially during sleep. Be considerate as he still needs time to rest."

"How can he rest when he is unconscious?" A different male hatchling. "That is stupid."

How many of them were there? Were they watching him? Did he have a captive audience?

"Duh, shut up. Your talking is probably disturbing his unconsciousness." The slightly older male verbally cuffed his sibling. "I have an idea. Talk louder, maybe he will wake up?"

Rick gritted his teeth and growled, wishing they would all just go away.

"He just made a noise!" The little girl's excited voice was high-pitched and grating. It made his head hurt.

"Keep your voices down, all of you." A stern, scolding motherly tone; definitely Gresharak. "I know you want to thank him but I have half a mind to take you all home. Just be patient. You do remember how to do that, yes?"

Rick made another soft groan of protest and wrinkled his brow. He slowly forced his eyes open and stared up at the ceiling, immediately testing his ability to focus his vision. When the two blurry images of Birdperson's roof slowly became one, he was pleased; he was already at three out of five. Now, if only he could get out of the prison of the blankets and get into a nice bottle of whiskey, that would make senses four and five. If he could just do that, he would consider the day to be a roaring success.

Ending up on Birdperson's couch in various states of consciousness and inebriation was becoming habit and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. Before he could entertain that thought any further, one of the hatchlings bounded across the room and was at his side, poking at the blankets around his shoulder.

"Hey, there you go. You are awake!" Another poke. "Can you hear me?" The younger male grinned at him.

"F-fuck off..." Rick hissed, not even bothering to acknowledge him; it was an automatic response without any thought needed whatsoever.

Birdperson rose to his feet and stood at the edge of the couch. "Welcome back, Rick. Although it pains me to see you down like this yet again, I must say that I am incredibly humbled and proud to hear about your act of heroism. The entire community has been talking about what you have done all day."

"H-heroism? That's stu-" Rick's sentence ended in an abrupt coughing fit; his throat hurt and his mouth was far too dry. "I-It's not a fucking comic book..."

"Something like this is very important to the people in my flock, Rick." Birdperson stared down at him, inhaling momentarily as he prepared to explain what was a touchy subject. "I am not sure if you understand the gravity of the situation, but the females of our society are undervalued, sometimes cast aside. The fact that you, a superior male of such renown, went so far out of your way to bring a young, weak, unnecessary member of our flock back to salvation is very compassionate."

Gresharak puffed out her feathers, her expression positively livid. "Unnecessary?! Would you like to take this discussion outside?"

"Salvation? Oh geez, I-I'm... I'm not a f-fucking god. Don't start preaching to me, I don't want any of you stupid feather-brains getting any... a-any funny ideas." He turned his head towards Birdperson and then Gresharak, glaring hard at them. "Stop that! I-I don't wanna hear about your society-hierarchy bullshit... s-stop getting butthurt about it!"

"Sorry." Gresharak stood down again. "How are you feeling?"

"C-cold... and I need a drink." His reply was short, honest, and very blunt. Rick's attention was back on the ceiling now, though he was already back at testing his current capabilities, wanting to know more about his situation. He could feel and wiggle his limbs, though he was still tightly confined in the warm bundle of blankets and he still didn't have a stitch on underneath.

"I am glad you said that," Gresharak replied, "I remembered what you said the other day about apologies and liquor and how it says sorry so much better than words. Is it a part of your culture?" She picked up a bottle of honey-colored liquid and dropped it onto the coffee table in front of him. "Just as you requested, and no seed-wine 'bullshit'." A grin accompanied her words as she watched what would happen.

"Mom!" Her eldest son yelped. "Such language!" He paused. "Wait, does this mean we can say that word now?"

Rick's attention was immediately on the bottle when he heard the base hit the table; amber was his favorite color and his mind was already rabidly craving whatever was inside as it had been far too long since his last drink. He made an attempt at trying to sit up, but felt sharp waves of pins and needles spike through his body, shooting down his limbs. At first he guessed it was a result of moving too soon, but when he began to harshly shiver, he was actually pleased about it; all of these new symptoms were positive signs that his body was well on the way to warming up again. With any luck, the heat in the room would start getting uncomfortable and he could risk leaving the confines of the blankets; he felt utterly ridiculous being bound up.

Birdperson was quick to pick the bottle back up. "This is the last thing he needs right now," he shook his head at the adult female, "you should not have brought this here so soon."

"Aww c-come on, BP... why not?" Rick's voice was pleading and he didn't care if he sounded like a whiny little child as he continued. "Just one shot... m-maybe three? That's all I need. Be a bro a-and... and hook me up, h-huh?" He clenched his jaw shut to keep his teeth from chattering together.

"Not now, Rick."

Much to his dismay, Rick watched Birdperson carry the bottle out of the room again. He didn't care what was in it; he wanted it so bad. He closed his eyes again and growled, frustrated by the fact he had such a psychological dependency on the stuff. He knew that it would grow into physical dependency if he didn't keep it in check and that the booze would probably be his downfall eventually, just like his parents. But it was what it was; he was an irredeemable alcoholic and had to accept the fact. It tasted so good and he liked what it did to him.

He was far, far too sober.

"I'm sorry about that." Gresharak told him quickly, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Does that mean I need to get you another?"

"Yes." Another automatic response. Spoken like a true alcoholic.

"Maybe later. It is time for us to go." Gresharak chuckled in reply. She gently nudged her young girl towards him as if trying to encourage her. "What did you want to say to the human, Lakkarah?"

"Umm..." The little girl became suddenly shy and leaned against her mother's legs for support. "Thank you for saving me. You were... really brave."

Rick shrugged his shoulders as much as he could as he turned his head back towards her. "It's not a problem," he scowled suddenly, his expression turning deadly serious, "so w-what did you learn?"

"Not to go running off..." She clutched at the fabric of her mother's robe, shy and entirely uncertain about what to do. She also seemed incredibly ashamed of herself.

"And?" Rick emphasized the singular word with a dip of his left eyebrow, glaring hard at her.

"And?" The little girl blinked at him, confused. She was becoming more and more upset by the second. Her next response was barely a whisper. "And, um... to tell my parents wherever I go...?" She sniffled, already on the verge of tears.

"Smart kid," it didn't come out kindly, "n-now get the fuck out of here and don't ever pull that shit ever again."

Gresharak picked the girl up and headed for the door. "Whenever you are ready, come back over and get Morty. My spirit mate is busy giving him a bath." Her attention was on both of her male hatchlings and she chirped at them. "Come, boys. We are leaving."

With that, the room was empty again and Rick was finally alone with his thoughts. He considered the whole thing to be entirely stupid; although most of it had been his fault to begin with, he couldn't control the events that had followed and managed them as best as he could. He wasn't a hero at all, and the bird people were delusional if they even considered it. He knew one thing for certain; he would probably never leave Morty out of his sight or unsupervised ever again.

Hard regret was the next thing to hit him; the spiky-haired man had been so irrational about finding his grandson again that he had completely abandoned his backpack in the metalworker's shop, along with all of his blueprints and the innards of his portal gun. He had also been stupid enough to pack in more than half of his useful equipment from the workbench and wanted to kick himself over it. He didn't have a clue how well it had all fared in his absence but didn't hold very high hopes for it; if everything was destroyed or damaged from the storm, then he had no idea how to proceed. He wasn't even certain if he had enough components leftover to start again if he had to.

There wasn't even any point trying anymore.

Within the hour, Rick could finally feel his fingers and toes. After another hour had passed, he was sitting back up and finally freed from the restraint of the blankets. He set one of them across his lap to cover his legs and wrapped the other around his lower abdomen. Although he was unhappy about still being completely naked, at least the blankets were doing everything to conceal the fact.

Now that Rick was looking far more alert, Birdperson took the opportunity to take care of him. He covered up the sutures on his back with fresh gauze padding despite his protests, and then brought him cups of tea in order to warm up his core again. Rick felt queasy and uncomfortably distended after finishing off two of them and wouldn't even consider touching the third.

"F-fuck, don't make me do this anymore, BP." Rick protested as he glared at the next cup of tea waiting for him on the coffee table. "No more will fi-" He ended the sentence with a rumbling burp, but it didn't do anything to lessen his discomfort.

Birdperson sat next to him. "I am glad to hear it. When you are feeling better, there is hot soup on the stove."

Rick pulled a face of pure disgust, wanting to gag at the suggestion. "Ugh, maybe later... that stuff is... i-is doing bad things to me. Haven't you got anything else?"

"I do, but you have very clearly stated that you do not want to eat bugs," Birdperson shrugged, "or worms."

"So... when are you going to give me the bottle back?" His mind had returned to the booze; he had a vicious craving and it was driving him insane.

"I thought you said that you were full?" Birdperson raised his left eyebrow ever so slightly.

Rick offered him his best toothy grin. "Nobody's too full for a drink. Now give? Give. Give, give, give."

"Give? You should give it some more time," Birdperson told him, "it is always better to err on the side of caution. I suspect you are still warming back up and alcohol is not something that you want to administer to somebody who is cold."

"No, y-you got that all wrong, whiskey warms you up!" Rick objected. "It warms you up! UP!"

Before either of them could say any more, there was a loud knock at the door. Birdperson rose to his feet and opened it, only to stare at a particularly tall and muscular feathered female standing on the other side.

Birdperson simply looked her up and down, his expression remaining stoic. "Can I help you?" He said after a moment; he had absolutely no idea who she was.

"This is where the human known as 'Rick' lives, yes?" She peered around the feathered male, her attention immediately glued to the spiky-haired human on the couch. "Ah, there you are. I am glad to see you again. Can I come in?"

Birdperson saw no reason to deny her, so he opened the door entirely and stepped aside to get out of the way.

As the strange female came in through the door, she held up Rick's backpack and a small leather satchel, her attention still hard on him. "You left these behind. I thought you may have wanted them back, considering how you kept emphasizing how important they were."

Rick simply stared back at her, wide-eyed and absolutely astounded. A happy grin came over him in the sudden realization that all his abandoned possessions had survived after all. "Oho, fuck yes!" He wanted to spring off the couch and grab the bag, but he remembered that he didn't want to risk getting up just yet. He also realized that he was still naked and pulled the blanket higher up over his torso, making sure that the most private part of his anatomy was still well obscured from view; as much as he enjoyed that aspect of himself, he didn't like showing it to anyone if he could help it. "Bring 'em over here! I-I wanna see what survived."

"Everything did," she began to explain, "as soon as you ran off, I made absolutely certain that it would all be safe for you when you finally came back, but you never did..." A sad expression came over her face and she shook her head. "When the storm cell hit, I thought you and your hatchling were done for. But after the storm was over, people began to talk and I wanted to see it for myself." She set both bags down in front of him. "So are the stories true? The flock will remember this day."

Rick sat up properly, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious and uncomfortable. "Oh god, not this shit again. Look, it's fine, just.. j-just let it go, OK?" He made a grab for the unfamiliar satchel and opened it, suddenly becoming confused when he pulled out the resin ceramic casing he had left behind and gave it an experimental tap with his fingers. It had started out pure white when he had sculpted it, but it had obviously tarnished during the firing process and was now light grey in color.

"What is this?" He turned it over in his hands, glaring hard as he inspected every last inch. It was still quite raw and the hard edges needed to be sanded back, but he was pleased with how it had turned out so far. The color didn't matter much to him as long as it did what it was supposed to.

"Ah, isn't it your completed project, sir?" The female watched him carefully. "Your strange metallic sliding shape is also complete. You left your schematics behind and they were not too hard to comprehend, so I finished them for you. Why not take a look?"

Rick didn't seem to notice. Without saying anything, he raised the hollow case high over his head and brought it down onto the coffee table with every ounce of his strength, vaguely impressed when it didn't break. This was exactly the kind of property he wanted out of the material; it was behaving exactly as he intended it to.

"Ah, sir?" The female bird-person was a mixture of worry and confusion. "What are you doing?"

Birdperson seemed ever so slightly unhappy. Rick's actions weren't making any sense and he was being destructive; he had just made a huge dent on the surface of his furniture. He wanted to stop the human right there and then, but everything he did usually had a valid reason behind it. He simply stood back and watched, observing what seemed like completely crazy, erratic behavior.

"I'm testing it out." Rick was grinning like mad as he tossed the resin ceramic case across the living room. He seemed even happier as he watched it bounce twice, loudly clattering as it skittered the rest of the way across the wooden floor, completely unharmed. "Fuck yeah! Th-that's a pass, baby!" He thrust both hands in the air and pumped his fists in victory.

"Are you done?" Birdperson shook his head at him. "What was the purpose of that exercise?" He picked up the ceramic case and against his better judgment, he dropped it back down on the coffee table, leaving it accessible to the scientist once again. If it was only going to be thrown again, he wouldn't be so likely to give it back a second time.

Rick sank back down on the couch and readjusted the blankets around himself. "I already told you, t-that was an impact test for durability. Do you honestly think I'd allow the portal gun to fail the same way it did last time? Fuck no!" He aggressively shook his head. "You know the only difference between science and screwing around is observing and recording the results, right?"

Birdperson stared back at Rick with a blank expression. He gave the feathered female a sideways glance of acknowledgment, who simply shrugged at him, seeming just as confused as he was.

Rick glared at both of their clueless faces. "Oh, fucking forget it! Just know that if it had broken, it wasn't worthy of being anything I'd own. I had a feeling it would behave like that, but I wanted to erase all doubt. Theory and reality aren't always the same." He picked up the satchel and took out the metal casing to inspect that next, wanting to distract himself from his own irritated mood; it seemed perfectly logical to him and it frustrated him that they didn't comprehend it at all.

"Do you like it?" The female said suddenly, stepping forward to gauge his reaction. "I followed the directions on your schematic exactly as you had drawn them out. And I am the best in the village, if I do say so myself..." She puffed out her feathers, feeling suddenly proud and self-important.

"Y-you finished it?" Rick scowled up at her. "That was my job!"

"Was I not supposed to?" The female's feathers deflated again. "Do you want me to melt down the metals so you can do it again? The alloy ratio is still on your schematic."

Rick released a tired sigh from the bottom of his lungs, feeling annoyed all over again. "No..." He upended the contents of his backpack all over the coffee table, not taking any care in it at all. "Just tell me how much I owe you s-so you can fuck off already." He began to sort through the pile and picked up a screwdriver so he could begin assembling the internal components of the portal gun.

"You don't owe me anything," the female sounded confused, "after hearing your story, I wanted to help in any way I could. You said so yourself, it was important to finish that. I feel that if I had been watching your child for you, things may not have turned out the way they did. I feel partly responsible for what happened and I hope what I have done can make amends."

"Y-yep, OK, totally done with you..." Rick threw the screwdriver down onto the coffee table and pointed hard at the door, waving his finger at it. "Get the fuck out!"

The female retreated and promptly turned on her heels, departing through the front door, saying nothing as she left. She had no idea what she had done wrong, but wasn't about to ask.

"Motherfucking... stupid bullshit..." Rick hissed aloud to himself as he finished screwing the first circuit board onto the containment casing. He gave it an experimental shake and picked up the next component to add onto it.

"Rick," Birdperson hesitated as he watched the female fly off into the distance. "That was not polite. She did you a favor."

"I don't need a lesson in fucking etiquette and manners, a-and not from you of all people!" Rick snapped at him. "Turn the fucking heat down and leave me alone, I gotta get this shit finished!"

Birdperson shook his head and left Rick to his own devices. At the very least, he was relieved; if Rick was in a foul enough mood to be angry and mean spirited, it meant he was back to his old self.

* * *

Rick had finally warmed up enough to retreat back to his room and he had taken everything back with him so he could continue to work without interruption. Although he did feel a little bad over what he had said to Birdperson, his only real motivation in the immediate was to complete the portal gun.

When he found the bottle of amber liquid waiting for him on the desk, he ripped the cork off and took a large gulp, incredibly pleased with the quality of the contents inside. Although it was a bit weak and perhaps too sweet for his liking, it wasn't making him feel ill. He took another mouthful for good measure and set the open bottle aside.

"Damn it, n-now I gotta say sorry to him... again." Rick grumbled to himself. "F-URRRRPPck..."

As he stood over the parts on his desk, his mind entertained the thought that he had probably made all the wrong choices today. He was still very much berating himself over the fact he had completely neglected to pay attention to Morty, however, he had already concluded that if he had chosen any other path at all, the outcome would have been very, very different. Gresharak would have lost her only daughter, which was a terrible thought all in itself, but it certainly wouldn't have turned out to be as beneficial to him as it was now. Despite everything being completely out of control, he was still very much on time and possibly even slightly ahead of where he should have been by now.

It certainly felt nice not to be kicked down for once.

After throwing some clothes back on and another long drink, Rick was positively buzzing with eagerness and perhaps the amount of alcohol content already in his bloodstream. As he hand-loaded the last of the components onto the metal containment housing, he clicked both halves together and screwed the two sides in place so they wouldn't move. He wasted no time sliding the completed portion into the resin ceramic casing and began attaching the three LED portal generators on the front face, wiring them in place with his ionic soldering gun.

"Oh man, this is gonna be so good," he said aloud to himself as he fanned solder smoke away with a hand, "this has been a long time coming... d-don't fuck up on me now, baby."

He flicked the maintenance hatch off the bottom of the portal gun and wired it up to the mains power so he could begin his first tests with live circuitry. The three little lights on the front face started to blink intermittently and he continued to work carefully, knowing full well that if he rushed the final steps of the compiling process, the whole thing could still explode.

Rick carefully set the portal gun down and watched the circuits inside spark and flicker as the device charged itself up for the first time. He delicately plucked the glass containment bulb up off the table and held it over the hole in the top hatch, waiting patiently. When the first sparks of burning, green, iridescent plasma started to spit up from the hole, he clamped the bulb down into place and quickly screwed it in, completing the final step of sealing the containment process.

With bated breath, all he could do now was wait; if anything was even slightly awry, whether it be a bad solder point or loose wire, the whole thing could become unstable and burn itself out. The green plasma sphere slowly rose from its core and hovered in the middle of the bulb, silently levitating. Suddenly, the dimension number indicator came to life as it calibrated itself and spat out a string of garbage characters before going blank as if demanding the operator to input something. The plasma sphere flickered in protest for a moment but soon stabilized itself.

Rick gave the bulb a wary tap with an index finger, but it was only a precautionary measure; he knew the device was perfectly fine. He had done the job with perfection right from beginning to end and there was no reason to worry. He sank back into his chair, a heavy weight lifting off his shoulders. It was finally done, and he was finally free to go wherever he wanted without bounds or limitations; the multiverse was his plaything to do with as he wanted once again.

The device was finally complete and he couldn't have been more proud of himself; the brand new portal gun was both new and old, a blend of borrowed things and innovation, and made out of only what had been accessible to him at the time. He knew he would build many more things in his lifetime but the portal gun was truly his magnum opus; it was what he wanted to be remembered by.

It was also a huge leap forward from the previous models he had made, which felt like amateur trash compared to what lay before him on the table. He had designed the new device with enough internal memory to store a near infinite number of coordinates with hundreds of characters in them, which could be recalled or stored in the portal gun's history with a simple click or twist of the small black rounded button at the topside of the handle.

The energy output had also been optimized so that the device could sustain up to 15 open portals at once, which was something that he figured would come in handy at some point along the way. The casing was also something he was particularly proud of; it was incredibly resilient and he could carry a piece of Bird World with him wherever he went. He was positively certain that no matter how hard he threw the portal gun, it would never break; the bulb would likely shatter long before the case did.

Rick felt like a child with a new toy and in that moment he may as well have been. He already wanted to show it off to Morty despite the fact the little boy simply wouldn't understand its significance. He was also eager to start playing with the device and testing its limitations.

Without even thinking, the scientist unplugged the portal gun from the mains power and began absentmindedly punching in the set of coordinates to his home world. He knew that it would take time before all the numbers from his head could be archived into the portal gun's memory bank, so manually entering characters would have to make do for the time being. If he only kept using it, he would have a decent list of stored coordinates before too long.

Rick aimed his new portal gun at the far wall of his room and fired it, a proud grin coming over his face as green shimmering halos of light spattered forth, behaving like viscous liquid as they adhered to the wall, melding together as they formed a bright green, shimmering, watery portal. He took a moment to stare at the interdimensional gateway simply because he had just missed seeing it.

However, he was quickly knocked out of his reverie; a harsh, cold wind blew through from the other side of the portal and granulated particles scattered across the floor, coating it with a thick layer of glass dust. It was a grim reminder of his situation and his heart sank in the realization of what he had just done.

"Shit..."

His portal gun suddenly began behaving strangely; the three little lights flickered on the front and they shorted themselves out. In another moment, both the portal and the device generating it had gone completely dead.

"No!" Rick slammed the portal gun back down onto the workbench and hurriedly popped open the maintenance hatch so he could try to work out what had just happened. "NO! Not now, oh god, not now... why the hell is it doing this?! I-I didn't do anything wrong!" He quickly turned the portal gun onto its side and hunched over it to poke at soldering points and connections with his fingers, though he couldn't find a single thing out of place.

"Weird..." Rick muttered aloud to himself as he returned the maintenance hatch to its rightful place. He turned the device back on and relaxed slightly when he discovered that the circuitry inside was still completely stable. "Maybe a startup glitch?" He shook the portal gun, causing the plasma sphere in the middle of the glass bulb to shudder in protest. He couldn't hear anything loose inside and now it was just annoying him.

He pressed the black control dial and recalled the previous coordinate. He fired it at the wall again and the portal wetly adhered to the wall once more as if nothing had happened. "Huh," the scientist said aloud, confused, "well I haven't screwed it up... i-it should be perfect... I don't get it."

The portal gun shorted out a second time.

"What the FUCK!?"

Now Rick was beyond pissed; the device had no logical reason to be behaving like this. Part of him wanted to rip it apart in disgust and take it back to bare componentry so he could find out where the fault was, but he had been so cautious and careful through every step of the building process, which meant that it should have been flawless; there was no conceivable reason why it wasn't it working as it was designed to.

Rick threw the portal gun down on the desk in disgust and buried his face in his hands, growling at himself; he felt like an utter failure. "Fuck... fuck fuck, fuck! God, why the hell is everything so fucked up!? C-can't even do one thing right... you're a goddamn hack!" He raised his head again and glared at the gun with utter contempt; it was perfect and nothing would ever convince him otherwise. He simply couldn't make peace with the fact he had done something in error.

Before he could entertain that thought any further, the digital dimensional display began to flash with an erratic display of garbage and bizarre foreign characters.

That grabbed his attention immediately. Rick snatched up the portal gun once again and was staring hard at it now; it really wasn't making any sense. He had never encountered such a weird behavioral bug before and nothing even remotely like it had ever happened to any of his previous models.

Suddenly, red letters began to scroll across the display in a digital red marquee.

 _\- 'Hey. Don't freak out, I'm actually the least of your troubles for the time being. Don't go back to that destination. You do NOT want to see it right now. Trust me.' -_

"What...?" Rick stared at the words, initially thinking he was going out of his mind. When they didn't disappear, he narrowed his eyes at the display, deeply suspicious. "What the fuck IS this?"

 _\- 'Relax. Take a deep breath. You did not do anything wrong. The device is operational and functions exactly as you intended it to, which means you're a fucking genius. Give yourself a lollipop.' -_

Rick turned his attention to the room around him as confusion set in; at first he thought it might have been a prank, but now that he had witnessed his own portal gun display responding to him as he spoke, he was suddenly paranoid; whoever was on the other side of the communications could both see and hear him.

"You're... y-you... you hacked my fucking portal gun, didn't you!?" He snapped in a sudden bout of rage. "And fuck you! I-I can go wherever I want!" He took a deep breath before launching into another bout of yelling. "Where are you?! Stop being such a smart-ass, fuck you!" He knew it was beyond all logic and reasoning to yell at an inanimate object, yet he did it anyway.

 _\- 'As I said before, relax. It is imperative that you remain calm. I hate repeating myself. So do you.' -_

"Oho, so you think you're funny now, huh!?" Rick angrily barked at the display. "Y-you son of a bitch! Why... h-how the hell did you hack my portal gun? Where are you?!"

 _\- 'I get it. You are pissed off and you have all kinds of questions. I can answer them for you, but you have to remain calm. It's better for you that way, trust me. Write this next step down. Pick up a pen and get ready, OK?' -_

Rick snarled as the words scrolled across the small screen, baring his teeth. "W-what the hell are you even playing at!? How can you see me? How the hell are you listening to what I'm saying to you?!"

 _\- 'I'm not playing a game, this is an incredibly serious matter. I would not be wasting my time on you if it wasn't.' -_

"Where the hell are you?!" Rick bellowed at the display, globs of spit flying across the desk. "Why are you fucking with me!?"

 _\- 'I'm not fucking with you. And to answer your question, I am at my workbench, just like yourself. That IS pretty much all we do, isn't it?' -_

"We...?" Rick narrowed his eyes in the realization of his next thought. "You're... you're a Rick, aren't you... what do you want with me?"

 _\- 'Clever deduction, little scientist. Did you figure that one out all on your own?' -  
_

"Fuck you!" Rick snarled in reply. Fighting against his better judgment the whole way, he picked up a pen and impatiently tapped the point down on a piece of scrap paper at the far end of his desk. "Fine, I'll... I'll bite. What do you want me to write down?"

 _\- 'I knew you'd come around. Glad to see it, because things are going to get so much worse for you if you don't.' -_

"W-what do you mean by that...?" Rick raised an eyebrow, deeply suspicious all over again; did he know something he didn't? Now he was just curious.

 _\- 'Relax. Everything will be fine as long as you do exactly as I tell you. Visit 40512-4DD567127Z3-53995483-09995-Q-316 in exactly 8 hours and 0 minutes from this transmission. Look at your nearest clock and do the math to work out what that is in your current timezone. Do not be late. Repeat: do not be late.' -_

Rick quickly scribbled down the character sequence and raised an eyebrow as he tried to mentally visualize where that destination could possibly be. He quickly deducted that he had no idea.

"Is there anything else?" Rick grunted as he returned his gaze to the room around him. He desperately wanted to know where the other Rick was and how he was so easily able to remotely access his portal gun display.

 _\- 'No. Do yourself a huge favor and don't think about it. Plug your portal gun up to charge and just get some sleep before you wreck yourself.' -_

Rick flattened his eyebrows, angry all over again; this guy was starting to sound like his mother. "A-are you done?"

\- 'Yes. If you follow my instructions, I will entertain whatever you ask. I'm going to give you free reign over your portal gun again. Remember: do NOT be late. And don't go back to your native dimension's planet Earth for the time being. Your mind simply isn't ready to deal with what is on the other side just yet.' -

Rick twisted his mouth into a very-uncomfortable expression as he read the last part of that message.

 _\- 'That is all for now.'-_

And just like that, the digital display went blank again. The plasma sphere rose back into the middle of the glass bulb and levitated silently as if nothing had happened to the device in the first place.

Rick set the portal gun aside and exhaled sharply; his mind was racing with new questions all over again. How did the other Rick manage to hack his portal gun before it was even finished? Was it really that easy and vulnerable to attack? How was he even able to watch what he was doing? As he looked back down at the device, his mind bombarded him with all kinds of modification ideas. Suddenly, the portal gun felt like yet another half-finished project all over again; if it was so easily exploitable, then there was so much more he needed to add to it.

He felt like a complete idiot.

Who was this guy? Why was he watching him and what did he want with him? Was the entire room bugged? Was the other Rick going to kill him? He didn't know the answer to any of these questions and it was already driving him insane. Rick had always hated unknown parameters, yet here he was all over again, feeling hopeless and all he could do was wait it out, just like he had done in the cold dark tunnel during the storm, not knowing what was going to happen.

It had been a week since he had been displaced from his home world; he finally thought the week from hell had finally ended. Yet, it seemed like it was just beginning all over again.


	12. Ricknapped

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights: ** This is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon, who this author wishes would hurry up with Season 3 already. Where are my episodes, Justin? You have them, where have they gone?

 **NOTE:** Not at all required, but if you want to listen to the songs I'm quoting, I highly recommend it. This chapter has been fixed for grammar and repeats. Reads a little better, too.

* * *

 _You know you can't keep letting it get you down_  
 _and you can't keep dragging that dead weight around_  
 _If there ain't all that much to lug around_  
 _Better run like hell when you hit the ground_  
 _When the morning comes_

 _Let it go, this too shall pass_

 _\- This Too Shall Pass – OK Go_

* * *

 **Chapter 12 – Ricknapped**

 **November 24th, 11:28pm Local Time, 2001**  
 **Birdperson's Tree  
Bird World, Dimension Unknown**

* * *

It was official – Rick was totally going out of his mind. Granted, he had never been particularly sane to begin with but this was a new low, even for him.

As the scientist vacantly stared at the wall opposite his workbench, his mind was still reeling from the interdimensional communications that had just been sent to his portal gun. As far as he was concerned, he was totally screwed, done for, out of time. Rick's mind was plagued by all kinds of scenarios and possible outcomes, none of them taking him to good places. He had no idea if the other Rick was interested in killing him or not: what the hell did he want with him otherwise?

He couldn't come up with any conceivable answer whatsoever and it was completely doing his head in.

Rick plugged the portal gun up to charge and set Morty's wooden toys off to the side of the workbench to dry out overnight. He stumbled out of the room again, the bottle of unidentifiable amber liquid in hand, his mind off in another galaxy as he sank down onto the couch in Birdperson's living room. He pulled the blankets over himself and drew his knees up against his chest as he huddled in a ball, staring at the doorway. It was no longer a matter of if something was coming for him, but when and how, and all he could do was sit and wait for it to happen.

Rick began to wonder if the intruder would just come in through the door like a normal person or turn up in some stealthy fashion to take him out like an assassin. He began to ponder what he would do if it was himself in the same situation, but quickly pushed it out of his mind again because he had no inclinations to seek out other Ricks since being told to go away all those years ago.

So much for the non-interference code.

Birdperson paced through the kitchen, as it was getting late and the stove fire needed to be put out. When he noticed that Rick had returned to the couch, he took the opportunity to move over with a bowl of warm soup, wanting to encourage him to eat.

Rick didn't even seem to acknowledge his existence and continued to stare at the door, his gaze distant and faraway. He reasoned that the door seemed like a perfectly logical entry point to him, but quickly concluded that he wasn't really known for being logical most of the time.

"Rick?" Birdperson watched the spiky-haired man carefully as he set the bowl down beside the large dent on his table. "Is your mind still slow? Did you still need more time to warm back up?"

"No. That's done with, BP." Rick mumbled out the answer, his voice completely subdued. He picked up the bottle and took a heavy swig from it, partially out of habit and partially because he wanted to take the edge off his anxiety. He also wanted to shut his mind up, but came to the realization that getting it clear again would be an impossible feat right now.

"If you are confident enough to imbibe once again, you should eat something," Birdperson suggested, "it is unwise to stay hungry for an extended period of time. It is also late. You should consider going to sleep because you have had a particularly long day."

It seemed like a good idea, but Rick didn't respond. He knew that he was really tired but there was no way in hell he was going to get any sleep now; his mind was an absolute jumble of thoughts, terrible plans, and possible outcomes playing over and over again in his head.

Birdperson simply shook his head at him and departed through the front door.

Rick was only vaguely paying attention as he watched him go and his mind launched straight back into deep thought. He knew that there was little point in trying to hide or run away. If the other Rick knew where he was, if he could see him and hear him perfectly well, it didn't matter what he did or where he went; if he wanted him dead, then that was the end of it. His only chance of survival was to load up on guns and defend himself but he couldn't even do that very well because they were still inaccessible to him. It was at this moment that Rick began to wonder if enough time had passed that Birdperson would be OK with him having firing weapons again. Then he decided that it would likely become another conversation he didn't want to have, and he pushed it out of his mind again.

He had to come up with some kind of plan, and fast.

When Birdperson came back in through the front door, he was holding a very tired and grumbly Morty, who had been disturbed from his slumber. The feathery male simply carried the angry little boy over to the couch and set him down on the cushion next to his best friend. "Perhaps this will cheer you back up."

Morty forgot all about what he had been complaining about the moment he saw Rick. He responded to his presence with a loud, happy squeal to greet him and once close enough, he grabbed onto his arm and hugged it as hard as he could, wanting to express how much he had missed him.

Rick barely noticed. He simply kept his arm in place to keep the little boy happy, his attention still glued to the doorway. Morty's presence hadn't done him any good; he was just another unknown factor he had to worry about. Rick had no idea what was going to happen to himself, let alone to the little boy beside him. Whatever would happen, he sure as hell didn't want to subject him to yet another traumatic situation.

"Is something the matter?" Birdperson finally broke the silence. He knew it was an obvious statement; Rick's current mood and troubled expression was definitely not normal behavior but he had to say something, even if nothing useful would eventuate from doing so.

Rick didn't answer initially and reached over to pick up the bottle again, his attention glued to the agitated surface of the liquid inside. "Hey, uh. Thanks for the booze, and... s-sorry for being a dick earlier. I'm in a bad mood, shit's especially fucked up more than usual." He raised the bottle up to his mouth and took a heavy swig from it.

"What do you mean, Rick?" Birdperson stood there, his expression vaguely curious.

Rick was silent for a few moments and his mouth twisted into a very uncomfortable lopsided frown, seeming to have some difficulty reasoning through what he was about to say. "Can... can you remember w-what I asked yo-UURRPPu the other day, BP?" His attention was back on the other, his eyes suddenly locking on him in a hard, serious stare. "About taking care of Morty for me in my absence, I mean."

Birdperson raised an eyebrow, not understanding where this line of questioning was coming from. He said nothing.

Rick was not reassured by his silence at all. "You... you never said yes or no when I asked you the other evening. I remember it clearly, despite being utterly wasted. You were way more concerned with your own planet than the safety my own grandson." His brows furrowed in a deep scowl, insulted by the thought. "So... what's your answer now?"

"What is this about, Rick?" Birdperson's tone was still calm.

"Answer the fucking question, Birdperson!" Rick snapped suddenly, having completely reached the end of his patience. "Stop sidestepping it, i-it's a simple yes or no! Can you do it or not?!"

Birdperson's feathers momentarily ruffled in response, not very much liking the direction the conversation was taking. "I very much doubt that I would be able to do the job justice. I do not think that I would be able to nurture him well. I know for a fact that I would need to seek out appropriate education if he is going to grow up to be anything even remotely like you. But yes, Rick, of course I would take care of your grandson in your absence."

Rick set the bottle back down on the table and released a sharp exhale from his lungs as he sat up again; too many thoughts, too many unknowns. "Good... was that so hard?"

"I need to understand your thought process, Rick," Birdperson told him, "I can see that something is troubling your mind and that there is a lot more to this than you are letting on."

Rick made a loud, sharp, irritated sound as he sat up properly; he knew that Birdperson deserved an explanation but he wasn't sure he could give one when he didn't even know what was going to happen himself. "Just... let me deal with this in my own way. It's nothing you need to worry about, your stupid dirtball of a planet isn't in danger. It's me they want... it's always me, isn't it? I'll never be safe no matter where I go. So... fucking tired of this shit..." He picked Morty up and set him into his lap, feeling particularly uneasy about his presence; he had absolutely no idea what to do.

Birdperson wanted to press Rick for more details, but it was late and his mood had deteriorated far too much for his liking. He decided it better to retreat and left him alone with his grandson on the couch.

Rick leaned his head back, relaxing as much as he could for the time being. Morty made unhappy noises as he moved around, trying to get comfortable in his grandfather's lap. Rick simply ran a hand through the little boy's hair until he fell asleep again, his attention on the ceiling until he finally drifted off to sleep himself out of sheer exhaustion.

* * *

When his mind did finally stir awake again, Rick felt Morty move around on his lap, only to climb off him afterwards. When he heard the loud thump onto the wooden floor below, he half expected crying noises to follow it. Instead, he heard high-pitched giggling and cooing; definitely not a predictable outcome. He finally opened his eyes and sat up to observe the strange behavior.

"And w-what the hell do you find so amusing down there?" Rick tiredly grumbled at him, still very much in the process of waking up. "Why are you in such a good mood?" He yawned and moved a hand up to rub his eyes; he hadn't gotten enough sleep and was already irritated.

Morty responded with a singular grunt and stood up, waving his new prize around in the air like a toy; he had found a large horned beetle to play with. He held onto it for a moment before throwing it straight at his grandfather.

Rick raised an eyebrow as he watched it sail over in his direction; the flightless bug harmlessly hit him in the chest and bounced onto the pile of blankets around him. "You little shit. What was that for? You think you're clever, huh?" He sat on the edge of the couch and stared down at Morty, baring his teeth in a grin. "You... you think I'm just gonna let you get away with that?" In another moment he was on the floor beside the little boy and started to playfully poke him in the chest. "Oho, you're going down!" He snickered in amusement as he tickled Morty's stomach.

Morty made loud squealing noises and flopped down onto his back, flailing his limbs in an attempt to make him stop. He didn't know what had provoked this behavior, but he was absolutely loving it.

"Hah, you're so screwed now!" Rick laughed at him and playfully pinned him down so he could assault him with another round. "Take that, y-you... devious little shit!" For a few moments, he tickled the little boy and grinned like mad, entirely forgetting what had been on his mind. After he decided that Morty had enough of it, he sat up again and smirked; that had actually made him feel a little better, surprisingly.

Morty already seemed ready for round two. He was back on his feet again and trying to tackle Rick's arm, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt, making loud demanding noises in an effort to make him play again.

Rick shook his head as he picked him up. "Yeah, yeah, I know you wanna keep at it, but enough horseplay. You smell like shit and we gotta find food. Real food this time, not that nasty crap we've been eating for the last week. It's backed me up and I have no idea what it's doing to you," he lightly poked the little boy in the belly and frowned, "but judging by the way you smell, probably not much, am I right?" He finally got to his feet.

Morty had no idea what Rick was saying but responded with loud, happy squeals and broke into another fit of giggles.

Rick grumbled under his breath as he carried Morty into the spare nest room, his mood already soured by the fact that he had to change yet another poopy diaper; this was his least favorite part about having such a young child around and his opinion was never going to be different. "You want some fruit? This planet's environment is much warmer than where we lived back home. It never snows here." He set the little boy onto the floor and screwed his face up in disgust as he began the task. "There's a wet season and a dry season. Just judging by the torrential downpour yesterday, the wet season has probably just arrived. Which means fruit, which means... not eating bullshit for once."

Once the job was complete, Rick moved to his feet again and slid the wooden toys off the edge of his workbench to grab Morty's attention. "There you go... occupy yourself with those for a while and don't get into the rest of my stuff. And do you think you could, y-you know, poop less often? That would be great..." He huffed as he carried the horrible bundled-up diaper out of the room so he could dispose of it and wash off his hands again.

Morty was back on his feet and immediately picked up both toys. Although neither of them made noise, they had become familiar and he was starting to like them. He knew what the spaceship was for and immediately threw it into the air to make it fly, giggling at the loud sound it made when it crashed back down onto the workbench. He wasn't amused for very long however, and had already decided that he wanted his toy back. When he attempted to climb the chair at the table, he realized that he was still too little to get very far and began to growl in frustration.

It was then that something much more interesting caught his eye; there was a bigger object shaped just like the one he was still holding, but there was a bright green glow coming out of it. Morty's eyes quickly followed the extension lead connected to the device and he began to pull on the cord, remembering that the same strategy had worked with the CD player he had broken the other day. With another short tug, the portal gun was freed from the power cord and it clattered down onto the floor at his feet, making a loud, popping discharge as it went completely dead.

Rick had already heard the noise and was promptly back at the doorway, glowering at the sight before him. He reached Morty in two strides and towered over him, his hands on his hips, giving him the most unimpressed expression he could muster. "Seriously? What the fuck, Morty?! I'm not even gone for a minute a-and you're already in my shit! What did you do this time? What did you do!?" He grabbed the portal gun and began checking it over for signs of damage. "You really can't be trusted with anything, can you?"

Morty made a loud whimper in response and crash tackled his grandfather's legs in an effort to appease him. He really hadn't meant to break anything and began to cry, sobbing into the fabric of his pant-leg.

Rick ignored him this time; as far as he was concerned, the little boy needed to know he'd screwed up. "I-I tell you not to touch something, you do it anyway. I tell you to stay put, you run away. And here you are all over again, touching my stuff even though I told you not to... are you actually TRYING to piss me off, Morty?" He growled at the little boy as he sat down at the desk and opened the portal gun to inspect the innards. After another moment, he had reconnected the mains power to the device and the portal gun began charging all over again. It was behaving completely as normal; the only real problem seemed to be that the battery had gone flat.

It had never been a particularly decent battery to begin with and the scientist knew it. It was composed of nothing more than a cheap, lithium-ion cell that had been repurposed from another device years ago. It was obviously near the end of its working life as well; its ability to retain charge had been deteriorating in more recent years and he knew it would have needed replacing at some point anyway.

Rick released a heavy sigh from his lungs and leaned back in the chair; he needed to calm down, but he was relieved that nothing worse had happened. "You're lucky you didn't break it..." He grumbled as he resumed scolding the little boy, though his voice was far more gentle as he spoke this time. "This really isn't funny anymore, Morty. Seriously, I'm really trying here, but... I-I need your help, I'm out of options. What's it going to take? How can I make you learn what's unacceptable and what isn't?"

Morty wasn't listening and continued to cry louder; he'd completely lost it.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it... you're sorry. I know, little buddy, I know." Once the portal gun was back together, he set it aside and pushed it well out of harm's way. "You're too young to understand how important my portal gun is to me, but holy fuck... you KNOW you're not supposed to touch my shit. You know that. Why won't you learn?" He reached down to pick Morty up again and held him over his shoulder, patting him on the back in an attempt to soothe him. "And you know what's worse? Now its completely dead... you just wasted about 8 hours of charge, which means it has to start all over again. I hope you like fruit, Morty, because that's what we're going to have to go get now. Thanks a lot!"

Once the little boy was quiet, Rick set him back down beside his chair and began loading supplies into his backpack in preparation to go out for the day. Everything he had with him yesterday was still too wet to use, so he loaded Morty into the silly cloth sling that Gresharak had given him earlier. Once he was ready, he hauled the backpack over his shoulder and set out on his way.

Rick had decided to leave the portal gun on the work table; it was flat so he had no use for it anyway. It still needed more tweaks before he would be completely satisfied with it and he also figured that he wouldn't need it just for a simple walk in the wilderness. This would soon turn out to be one of the worst decisions he would ever make, and it would be the last time in his life that he would ever go anywhere again without it.

* * *

Although Rick had been caught out in the storm yesterday, just seeing the aftermath in the community near Birdperson's tree house made him realize how fortunate he'd been in finding shelter. Gnarled, twisted trees and broken branches blocked many parts of the walking trail ahead and storm damage was just about everywhere he looked. Several of the houses high above were broken or falling apart and the people of Bird World were still cleaning up the mess that had been left behind. Some of the people in the community were also grieving over lost loved ones. Rick could only be glad for the fact he wasn't part of the death toll and briskly headed into the wilds beyond the village, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he tried not to think about it, Morty happily chattering to him in his nonsense language from the baby sling at his front.

He had no idea what time it was but didn't care; he was hungry and had needed to get out of the house. On top of all his other thought processes, he was reminded that both himself and Morty needed a more long-term strategy if they were going to keep moving forward. Now that he finally had his portal gun working again, he could do whatever he wanted, but he still had no idea what to do about Morty's future; he simply hadn't thought that far ahead. While the thought of raising the little boy all by himself was not something he wanted to consider, the longer he went on, the more and more likely it seemed.

It wasn't sitting well in his mind.

Rick had no confidence in his ability to take care of Morty; in the mere space of a week he'd upset the little boy more times than he cared to remember and he'd even lost him along the way. He believed he was already too screwed up to be useful in managing himself, let alone somebody else. Although he loved the little boy more than reality and the universe itself combined, Morty deserved so much more than he could offer. He felt a harsh stab of guilt in his chest and put his head down, trying to push it out of his mind again as he kept following the pathway.

Rick had only been walking for about another five minutes when he heard the flurry of wing flaps overhead, and rolled his eyes in irritation as he witnessed Gresharak land nearby. He noticed right away that she was by herself and although he found that observation a little odd, he didn't want to comment on it because that involved talking to her. He didn't even acknowledge her presence and kept walking along at the same brisk pace.

"And where do you think you are going?" Gresharak called out to him, having to rush as she caught up to walk alongside the pair. She waved to Morty and smiled as he squealed back at her.

"You again? Great... w-what the hell do you want now?" Rick grumbled in her direction, trying to sound as uninterested as he felt. "I'm just going for a walk here, I wanted to spend quality time with my grandson. You know... quiet time? As in, just me and Morty. Which means not you, s-so... go away. Is that so much to ask?"

"No, it is not. I promise that this will be a quick conversation," Gresharak replied, "I saw you from the tree tops and had to come over. The color of your plumage is unmistakable and I could recognize it from anywhere."

"It's hair, get it right. Sheesh..." Rick grumbled, bringing a hand up to scratch his head, running a hand through his mess of spikes; it didn't improve his hairstyle but then again nothing ever did. "Ridiculous, unmanageable, stupid hair that I can't do anything with."

The feathery female seemed amused. "I am glad to meet with you again. I must say, I am also glad to see you on your feet so soon. I never really did get the chance to properly thank you for protecting my daughter through the storm."

Rick stopped in his tracks, making a point of glaring hard at her. "Look, don't bring that up again, i-it's nothing. If you want to thank somebody, thank your kid. She was the one that kept Morty warm." He fumbled with his backpack for a moment and pulled out the bottle of amber liquor to take a swig from it. "S-she also actually listened to instru-URRRPPctions, so they survived, mostly because of her. So go away and tell her she's a smart kid." He moved past her and resumed his brisk walk, putting his head down so he didn't have to look at her anymore. "In fact, why don't you do that... l-leave, I mean. Because I don't want to talk to you. Did that ever occur to you? No?"

"I am never going to be able to properly thank you for what you did," she quickly told him, "and I mean that. I just wanted the opportunity to tell you. Also, I wanted to see how you were feeling because I would be lying if I said I was not worried."

"Look, Gr... whatever-the-fuck your name is... I don't care." Rick was growling at her now. "Don't even ask me to attempt pronouncing your name because I don't speak your native tongue and I don't want to sound like an idiot trying to. I'm not an idiot, do I look like one? No."

Gresharak whistled thoughtfully. "Ah, that all suddenly makes sense."

Rick raised an eyebrow at her. As much as he didn't want to continue the conversation, he didn't understand and it had already managed to annoy him. "Wh-what does? What the hell are you even talking about?"

"You do not pronounce my name because you are physically incapable of it. You called my daughter 'feathers' and she has not been able to stop talking about it since. You have also done the exact same thing to the one you call 'Birdperson'. So tell me, Rick Sanchez, what would you call me if given the choice to name me whatever you wanted?"

"I don't know," Rick shrugged, "Big-Ass Momma Bird?"

Gresharak stared at him for a moment, only to break into a fit of loud screechy laughter. "I like it!"

"I really don't care..." Rick huffed back at her as he kept going, simply wanting to get away at this point. "You're wasting my time... do you want to be useful? Point me in the direction of the nearest fruit tree and go away!"

"Oh, did you hear the news?" Gresharak promptly caught up, walking alongside him again. "The entire plantation was destroyed in the storm. The crop we were growing for the year has died."

"Well, shit," Rick hissed, gritting his teeth, "I guess foraging is the next option." He tapped Morty on the head with an index finger. "See, look what you did! This one's on you, y-you deserve to starve for screwing up so bad. And just think, if you had left my portal gun alone, we could be eating fancy-ass sugary pancakes on some distant asteroid by now, either that or we could be..."

The scientist trailed off as his attention turned skywards; there was a strange buzzing sound in the air. Gresharak must have heard it, too, for she was also looking around, just as confused as he was.

"What is that?" Rick came to a halt once more, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the immediate area around him. "I've visited your stupid planet a billion times and I've never heard anything like that. Is there something going on that I should know about?"

"I have never heard it before." Gresharak quickly told him. "At this current point in time, I know about as much as you do."

Suddenly, a large insect accompanied the sound of the buzzing as it hovered ten feet over their heads, its wings loudly humming like a small helicopter. Everything about it was unnatural compared to the other bugs in the local ecosystem; it was easily five feet from head to stinger and looked very much like an overgrown bumblebee right down to the segmented spiked legs and fuzzy fur layer growing across its midsection. Instead of yellow and black stripes, it had uneven, shimmery, emerald-green and dark-grey striped splashes of color all the way down its abdomen. Its front set of legs were also modified, looking very much like a deadly set of overgrown, hooked, praying-mantis scythes.

Rick stared at the new arrival, his eyes narrowing even further as he watched it hovering in the air above him. Another insect soon accompanied the first, though it was smaller and far more vibrant in color than its peer. The scientist had absolutely no idea what either of them were but he already knew he didn't trust them; he had never been particularly fond of insectoid creatures to begin with and his run-ins with the Galactic Federation had only cemented those sentiments.

At least they didn't look anything like bureaucrats.

"What the fuck are those?" Rick grunted sharply, his attention practically glued to the insects overhead, waiting to see what they were going to do next. "I didn't know your planet had bees that big."

Before either of them could say any more, both insectoid creatures landed on the walkway ahead and began to buzz back and forth at each other as if involved in a heated discussion. The larger insect suddenly closed in on the scientist, its segmented eyes locked on him in a hard, expressionless stare. It raised its massive set of claws up and pointed them at him as it resumed its chattering buggy language, its spiracles hissing on each exhale; it certainly wasn't a friendly gesture.

Rick took three hurried steps backwards, suddenly feeling anxious and vulnerable all over again; this time he hadn't even thought to bring the hunting knife along with him. He was completely unarmed and worse, he had Morty with him. The little boy had already picked up on his uncertainty and began to cry, frightened by what was happening.

"We do not have anything like these insects on Bird World. I do not know what they are." Gresharak replied, becoming increasingly worried as she watched the spiky-haired man's behavior; she had never seen Rick so nervous before and if somebody like him was worried it was definitely a bad sign. "What are they?"

"The hell makes you think I know?!" Rick snapped back at her. He took two more steps backwards and feverishly looked all around his immediate location, his mind racing through probable escape routes. "Well... I can tell you one thing... this is very bad. Can you... no, y-you need to take Morty. I need you to get him as far away from here as fucking possible." He began to hurriedly undo the baby sling, holding Morty firmly in his hands once he had gotten it off. "Just... just run for it, OK?"

"What do you mean?" Gresharak's reply was quiet and nervous now.

"Look, don't worry about me, just get him out of here!" Rick growled as he launched Morty into the air, throwing him at her. "He's only going to make noise and slow me down!" He sprang backwards as one of the giant scythe-claws took a sudden swing in his direction. "Your planet doesn't have bees... why the fuck did it have to be bees?!"

"I do not understand, Rick. What in the world is going on?" The bird mother made a loud screeching sound as she clumsily caught the little boy, who began crying even louder.

"Just," Rick clutched at his hair spikes in pure frustration, "get the hell out of here! How many times do I have to tell you?!" He was about to add more, but when he heard the unmistakable sound of a portal open up somewhere behind him, he was already backing up, his attention still glued to the insectoid creatures as he turned on his heels and broke into a sprint. "Fucking get out of here! RUN!"

And just like that, he was running for his life all over again. The thrum of loud buzzing filled the air once more and drowned out the natural sounds in the area as more of them poured out of the portal in an angry swarm. Rick couldn't tell how many of them there were as he dashed off the pathway and disappeared into the thick underbrush in the attempt to lose them. He sprang over broken plants and fallen tree branches as his feet squelched across soggy ground, still very much wet from the downpour. When the first insect swooped him, he punched it between the eyes and kept going.

"You're gonna have to try harder than THAT, fucker!" Rick hollered back at the insect as he extended his middle fingers to it.

He quickly regretted the gesture as a second insect landed hard on his back, knocking him straight off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground in an uncoordinated tumble. A third insect immediately pounced and held him down, followed by a fourth, then a fifth, and then too many to count as they swarmed him. Tiny little claws began painfully digging into him as they grappled onto their prey, pushing him further down into the mud as they pinned him down, rendering him completely helpless and unable to move.

"Fuck..." Rick growled as he tried to lift his head, though a small three-toed clawed foot quickly put a stop to that. His face was stomped straight into the cold, soggy mud below, and he hissed in discomfort as it got straight into his eyes.

He couldn't see a thing even if he wanted to thanks to the sheer mass of insects surrounding him. Rick froze at what he heard next; there was a voice somewhere overhead and nearby that sounded exactly like he had just spoken himself.

"Well well, B-526, look at you." There was a pause. "You're late."

"What the... what the fuck do you want with me...?" Rick managed to growl back at him.

"I'm curious, do enlighten me," the other Rick completely ignored his question as he stepped towards the mass of insects, a wide victorious smirk on his face, "what are you even doing with yourself out here, Rick? You're pathetic. Did you at least have a nice time gallivanting around the forest with your... what is it... hippie bird friends?"

"Where are you going with this? Get to the point already!" Rick growled out the response. He attempted to wiggle out from the mass of insects, but was promptly rewarded with another clawed foot to the face. "Fuck, t-that hurts! Get these things off me!"

"Wow, not much of a conversationalist, are you?" He snapped his fingers and pointed to the immediate ground at his left. "Get over here."

The cluster of insects behaved like perfectly trained dogs as each one silently moved off their target. Not a single sound or movement was made once they had formed an orderly line directly beside their master.

Rick wasted no time sitting up to wipe the mud out of his eyes. "So what was the point of that?" He forced himself to his feet and began to brush the mud off his clothes. "What do you even want with me?"

Now that he could see again, Rick made a point of glaring hard at his assailant. The other Rick looked just like him and yet was wrong somehow. He had even wilder spiked, powder-blue hair than he did that seemed to defy gravity, and was just quietly standing there in a freshly laundered coat with short tails, a pair of small, rectangular-framed glasses sitting squarely across the bridge of his nose. He looked incredibly annoyed, but also cocky and far too proud of himself. On the right side of his coat was a caduceus staff pin, and on the left was a rounded, silver, three-pointed star with a capital R in the middle of it.

Rick recognized the symbol on the left, but the silver logo completely eluded him. Although he wanted to ask about it, there were far more pressing questions on his mind. He also didn't know what the other Rick was going to do and simply stood there, silent, his mind already torn in two directions: whether to attack or make a break for it.

"You're late... I told you not to be late, Rick." The newcomer decided to speak first as he folded his arms. "I'm so ashamed of you. You're setting such a bad example in punctuality for your Morty."

"You leave Morty out of this! This has nothing to do with him, it's me you want, right?" Rick balled his hands into fists and took a singular step forward, not seeming to care anymore that the other Rick still had his army of bees.

"Oh wow, really? Are you actually serious about that?" The other Rick laughed at the aggressive gesture. "Don't do something you're only going to regret. You're not that stupid, are you?" He made a soft noise of mockery and shook his head. "Look, I've been fair here, so this one is on you. I gave you ample opportunity to come of your own accord. I gave you the exact coordinates to my location, I gave you the time of day. Hell, I even waited for you but you didn't come. You decided to ignore my request and... what are you even doing out here?" He tilted his head slightly, his eyebrows rising in mock disappointment. "Picking fruit, was it?" He pulled a large ray gun from the inside of his coat and began to play with it in his hands. "I hope that was worth missing our appointment."

Rick wanted to ask him all the questions that had been on his mind, but found himself in a silent, tense stance, his attention locked hard on the gun.

"This is always my favorite part," the other Rick practically purred out the words as he pointed the ray gun at one of the insects beside him, "watch them realize how badly they've fucked up and then watch them either shit themselves, o-or laugh at their pathetic attempt to get away. Let me tell you something, B-526," he raised the ray gun up once again, this time pointing it at Rick's chest, "you ignored my summons, so you're coming with me now. I always get what I want."

"Huh, so that's it?" Rick growled at him. "Are you going to kill me or not? Get it over with if you are, I-I only ask that you make it quick."

"Hah, no." The other Rick smirked and raised his head, a toothy, arrogant smirk growing wide across his face. "You honestly think I'm going to kill you? Well maybe not initially, at least... that would be boring." A soft laugh came over him and he seemed to be having too much fun with the position of power he currently had over the other. "Where's your portal gun, Rick? Where did it go?"

"It's... i-it's back at the house..." Rick lowered his head, deeply scowling now. He knew he'd made the wrong choice in leaving it behind, but it angered him that the other Rick was making a point of telling him how badly he'd screwed up.

"Lesson one," the other Rick cocked the ray gun into the fire ready position, "don't leave your portal gun at home. Repeat, do NOT leave home without your portal gun. I hate repeating myself but it seems that you're so stupid, maybe I need to say it twice, hmm? Just in case you didn't hear it the first time."

"Fuck you!" Rick snapped at him.

The other Rick waved his finger, making small noises of mockery at him. "Ah-ah-ah, Rick. Fuck you? Don't flatter me. Hah, it's 'fuck me'. Don't worry, you'll learn it all before too long... we'll teach you how to behave properly."

Rick narrowed his eyes in response, saying nothing this time.

Before either of them could say any more, a sudden barrage of white-hot plasma fire rained down from above and four of the insectoid creatures suddenly collapsed, completely lifeless, emerald green fluids and visceral chunks spewing out of the smoldering holes that had just been made in their head carapaces.

"Ugh..." The other Rick seemed more annoyed above anything else. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I took too long, right? Here comes the fucking cavalry." He began to fiddle with the settings on his ray gun and began firing at the sky. "What a pain in my ass."

Rick turned his attention skyward; Birdperson and four other large, winged males sailed overhead, armed to the teeth with rifles, guns, and other assorted weapons. He took the opportunity to lunge at the other Rick while he was distracted and tackled him to the ground, immediately trying to wrestle the gun out of his hands. The other Rick promptly retaliated and they began to struggle against one other in a flurry of limbs and fists, the other Rick soon getting the upper hand by slamming Rick hard in the stomach with both of his knees, knocking the wind out of him completely.

"Wow, didn't know you had so much fight in you. Good for you!" The other Rick promptly shoved him off and got to his feet once again. "Say goodnight, Rick." He aimed the gun and fired, the gleeful smirk returning to his face. "Sorry, but you lose this time."

Rick felt a sensation of intense burning fire through his entire body as the ray bolt struck him in the chest, stunning his senses. He had already been down, but this was just adding insult to injury.

The other Rick simply laughed as he stood over his captive prize. "Don't fuck with me. You'll learn that before too long, too." He pulled a small metal collar device out of his coat pocket and clipped it around Rick's neck, his voice suddenly becoming uncharacteristically gentle and sympathetic once he had snapped it shut. "There you go, you don't have to fight it anymore. It'll be all over before you know it, don't you worry."

"...why?" Rick finally managed to force out the singular word. The ray-gun fire had hurt enough, but the energy resonating from the activated collar was even worse. He felt waves of electricity coursing through him as the collar disrupted the electrical pulses in his nervous system, rendering him completely frozen in place, paralyzed from the neck down.

"Yawn. I always did hate theatrics, you know... of course you would ask that." The other Rick rolled his eyes, his attention back on the sky as he fired shots at the bird people overhead. "This wasn't the best option, but what else was I supposed to do? Y-you didn't exactly give me any other choice here." As he fired at the other bird people in the sky, a sudden grin came over him as he took out two of them with one shot. "Zing! Oh yeah, still got it, baby!"

Rick could only lie there helplessly as the other Rick shot down the remaining bird people. When he saw Birdperson go down, all he felt was a deep sense of regret wash over him; they had been fighting for him, but he wasn't worth it.

The other Rick seemed incredibly pleased with himself after he had taken out the remaining members of the sky patrol. "Well, there you go. Not too much carnage this time," he turned his attention back down towards his captive, seeming unhappy for just a moment, "hey, I know what you're thinking. But don't worry, they're not going to die. Had to neutralize all the potential threats in the way of the primary objective. You understand that, right? Give them about an hour; they'll be flying around again before you know it."

Rick didn't respond; he simply stared off into the distance, feeling completely hopeless. He couldn't move, he couldn't do anything; he felt defeated in every sense of the word.

The other Rick dropped the ray gun and his hands were a sudden flurry of activity as he motioned sets of instructions for the remaining insectoids. "Go find his Morty and take his portal gun. This charade ends NOW."

Rick made a pathetic noise in his dismay, utterly powerless to do anything about it. His attempt to run, to fight, to do anything at all had been in vain. All he could do was lie there and wait, his mind completely aware and tormented in the fact that more of the same was about to happen to the bird woman, and then to Morty.

He couldn't have felt worse if he tried.


	13. Ricktaverses Apart

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** I say, good ol' chap, this appears to be a work of fanfiction. Richard and Mortimer is a dear little set of drawings you can watch on the animated comedy box in your house, created by some doods. IDK, it's not mine, don't sue me.

 **NOTE:** A massive jump in scenery from previous chapters.

Hopefully the change of scenery isn't too jarring, but consider this the secondary arc of the overall story. Things will start settling soon and the bigger picture will unfold. Surgeon Rick doesn't have a canonical dimension number in Pocket Mortys (he's literally a sprite and three lines of dialogue), so I've taken artistic liberty here. Is not Pocket Mortys canonical Surgeon Rick. Will not affect your Pocket Mortys experience. I am not really a cat.

* * *

 _I wish I had said the things you thought that I had said  
_ _Gravity's just a habit that you're pretty sure you can break_

 _So when you met the new you  
_ _Were you scared?  
_ _Were you cold?  
_ _Were you kind?_

 _When you met the new you  
Did someone die inside?_

 _\- Upside Down & Inside Out – OK Go_

* * *

 **Chapter 13 – Ricktaverses Apart  
**

 **November 25th, Time Completely Unknown, 2001  
Who Knows Where**

* * *

Rick's mind wavered in and out of awareness as several small, buggy appendages clawed at him, holding him up, carrying the human along with them wherever they would go. They were being far too aggressive in their handling as if they were anticipating escape, or perhaps they were incapable of being any more gentle; he couldn't tell. They were on Bird World one moment and then the scientist could only wager a blind guess at where he was after being dragged through the open portal that had been waiting for him.

A foul, musty odor accompanied the next location, almost as if the air itself was turning bad. From what little he could gather of his new surroundings, they were in some kind of dimly lit corridor now, and the weak lighting overhead flickered erratically as if threatening to go out at any given moment. At least he could still feel the effects of gravity; knowing which way was down did very little to soothe his mind, but at least it was something.

As Rick attempted to raise his head, he discovered that it was far more effort than he was willing to put in and he was left to stare at the floor. Flashes of green reflected across the shining metallic surface underneath him and it caught his interest; soon he found himself focusing on the perfectly shaped, hexagonal, green tiles below his feet and he was vaguely curious to know what made them shimmer with such iridescence. He didn't want to admit it, but they were almost pretty to look at.

Multiple cracks had damaged the tiles further along, but each one had been flawlessly patched up with a strange-looking, bioluminescent, green substance that almost resembled plastic. Perhaps it was wax, he guessed, considering the shape of the tiles and the fact he was being carried along by overgrown bees.

Rick supposed he should be used to it all by now; his existence seemed to be made up of nothing more than a string of bad events. He always seemed to end up on the losing end of whatever life had to throw at him.

Despite how predictable it was getting, it still managed to piss him off.

His feet lifelessly dragged behind him as the insectoid creatures continued to carry their quarry along down one dark corridor after another, their chitinous claws clicking across the tiled ground in rhythmic unison. A copious amount of drool began to trail down the scientist's lower lip and onto the floor below but he could hardly do much about it, as he had much bigger concerns; the collar had not only robbed him of his ability to move anything below his neck, but the further on they went, the more difficult it was becoming to breathe. Nobody around him seemed to care, but then again, neither did he. All he wanted to know was where he was and what was going on. The content of the air around him was also becoming uncomfortably dense and more humid with each passing step, and now there were strange, acidic odors that he couldn't quite identify. Although he couldn't entirely attribute the deteriorating atmospheric conditions to his breathing difficulties, he couldn't rule them out just yet either.

"Bring him up this way," he heard the impatient command reverberate off the metallic walls further up the corridor, "is exam room one sanitized and ready to go? No? Why can't you morons do anything right? Take him up to two instead. Hurry your pointy asses up, we can't afford any more delays."

More dragging, more corridors with the same homogeneously shaped, hexagonal tiles and a dank, musty odor. Without warning, the cluster of insect creatures abruptly stopped in front of an open doorway and launched their human cargo straight across the room, their target being a stainless-steel examination bench on the other side. Rick ungracefully thumped down onto the cold surface with a loud bang, but his nerves were already frazzled beyond being able to feel anything.

"Idiots! I told you not to damage that one, I need it for data!" The other Rick bellowed at the winged insects as the majority of them scooted around him, scuttling out the doorway again. He stomped across the room in his sour mood, his teeth gritted hard as he began to load up one of the small wheeled carts in the room with medical equipment. "Sorry about that. Nasty little fuckers can't do anything right." He already seemed to be much calmer as he picked up an elastic stringy object that looked suspiciously like a piece of bungee cord. "Sorry about this too, it's more for my safety than yours. Can't be too careful, you know?"

Rick lay on his side in the same position he had landed onto the table, not being able to do much else for the time being; all he wanted to do was learn more about where he was. His attention was drawn to what little he could see of the room around him and he immediately noted that the walls were made up of the same material composition that the corridors had been built out of. It was also as strange as the tiles: six sides, a perfect, columned, hexagonal shape. Was he in some kind of elaborate alien-beehive?

"OK, so," the other Rick wheeled the little cart to the left side of the cold examination table and hastily pulled a pair of protective goggles over his eyes. "Computer, start recording this interaction. I know you have all kinds of questions, but I want to make this quick and simple. Got that? Do everything I tell you and I'll release you back into the wild so you can... actually, I don't give a fuck what you've been doing." He reached across to pull Rick's arms behind his back and tied them up with the piece of elastic rope. Once he was satisfied, he began to adjust the dial on Rick's collar and turned it down a couple of notches. "OK, there you go. Give the nerve-inhibitor device time to scale down, it should start feeling better. Once it reconfigures itself, you should actually be able to say something useful."

Rick responded with a soft, frustrated huff and tried to wiggle his limbs, only managing a small twitch of his left leg at first. When the sharp, tingling sensations dulled, he discovered that he could clench his hands into fists. Although his arms were tied behind his back, he discovered that he still had free use of his legs. He narrowed his eyes and wasted no time bringing his left knee up in an attempt to slam the other Rick straight between the legs with it. "F... f-fuck you!"

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Holy shit!" The other Rick seemed to have anticipated the move and stepped back from him, seeming much more amused above anything else. "I'm impressed that you still have that much fight in you. Going straight for the fun department? Not on my watch. Computer, draw up the first clinical note: This one is lively, and he does NOT like being tied up."

"W-why did you bring me here?!" Rick sharply growled as he forced the words out, still finding some effort in breathing. "Where... w-where the fuck is Morty...? Wh-what did you do with him!?"

"Tsk tsk. I'll answer all of your questions in good time." The other Rick moved back over to him and placed a hand on the side of his head, idly flicking dried mud out of his hair. "Ugh, you're disgusting. What I need right now is for you to calm down, OK?" He began to comb his fingers through the thick brush of hair, his eyes narrowing as he found a particularly solidly-rooted strand to pluck out. "Interesting..."

"Ow! That hurts!" Rick spat back at him in a harsh wheeze. "Calm down, huh? D-do you have ANY conceivable idea of how stupid that suggestion is to me right now? I'm lying on a table in the middle of... where are we?"

"A good question, but that's actually the least of your concerns right now, believe it or not." The other Rick set the singular hair aside and picked up a folded blanket to toss over him. "Look, I get it. You're pissed off that I took you out of your dimension with no explanation. If it were me, I'd be pissed, too. But look at this from my perspective, would you? As soon as I know you're not going to punch me in the face I'll take your collar off. I'll get you fixed up as soon as I can."

"Fixed up?" Rick attempted to elbow the blanket, but his arms were bound up too tightly for him to do much good. "What? Of course I'm going to punch you in the face! Y-you deserve it!"

"Jesus Christ, stop being so stubborn!" The other Rick was clearly becoming fed up. He quietly readjusted the safety goggles on top of his head and removed the rectangular-framed glasses from the bridge of his nose, setting them down onto the wheeled cart beside the examination table. "Look, this is serious. I need to examine you, but it's going to be a hell of a lot easier for both of us if you would just cooperate. I need to get the nerve inhibitor off you as soon as possible because the longer it stays on, the higher the risk of your heart stopping. Although I can bring you back from that because I'm just that great at what I do, it would be preferential for both of us not to let that happen. Do you understand?"

"Fuck you..." The response was barely a wheeze, but it carried all the bitterness he intended along with it. Rick glared back at his captor, his attention falling on the particularly grievous, vertical scar that marked the left side of his face from forehead to cheekbone; it was such a prominent mark that he wondered why he didn't notice it before.

"Look, we've been over that already," the other Rick shook his head, his patience starting to fray. "It's 'fuck me'. Whatever, I don't care. Are you going to cooperate with me or not? You're wasting my time as well as your own. Either you agree or you don't, I don't care which... and if your heart stops, I WILL fucking knock you out to get the data I need without your consent. Don't you get it?"

Rick began to wiggle towards the edge of the table. "I've heard enough... f-fuck you, fuck whatever you're doing, fuck your entire operation! Give me Morty back so I can get out of here... I don't want to see you again!"

The other Rick firmly planted a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. "Is that a 'no', Rick?" His eyes narrowed, a devilish smirk growing across his face. "Full disclosure, I didn't even need your consent in the first place. I have full permission to do whatever I want to you with impunity, so trying to talk it out and reason with you is merely a formality at this point. We're so damn far into deep space that the planetary systems and nebulae don't even have names out here. There's no government on board my ship either, my word IS law. And right now, you're MINE."

Rick resumed glaring hard at his captor. He had nothing to say this time, and in his silence he had conceded to defeat.

"Hah, good choice," the other Rick seemed pleased with the lack of response. "If you're going to calm down and cooperate, then I actually have some very important questions for you. When we're done, you can ask me anything you want to. It's only fair, right?"

Before he could say any more, one of the smaller insectoid workers appeared in the doorway. It bounded across the room in a panic, half-flying the rest of the way to its master. Once at his side, it thrust Morty's tiny wooden portal gun straight into his open hand and chattered to him in urgent, high-pitched squeaks and buzzing sounds.

"What did you find?" The other Rick couldn't hide his bewilderment as he raised the tiny wooden toy up to the light. He seemed particularly annoyed once he had worked out what it was and slammed it down onto the table directly in front of Rick's face. "What is this? Is it meant to be some kind of joke?!"

Rick began to laugh in spite of his situation. "You... y-you fucking dumbass... your bug lackeys thought THAT was my portal gun? Wow... that's a new level of stupid right there."

"Ugh!" The other Rick whirled around to glare at the insectoid. "This is unacceptable. Unacceptable! Go back through the portal and find the real one, and don't come back until you do!" He pointed towards the open door and gave the fuzzy creature a sharp kick to the abdomen as it departed. "Fucking idiot!"

"This whole setup strikes me as odd..." Rick's arms were still tied behind his back, but it didn't stop him from struggling. His breath came out in short rasps as it took considerable effort to struggle onto his side, yet he managed it anyway. "What... what b-business does a Rick have in the middle of space with a bunch of bees anyway? Everything is... so run down..." Now that he was at the very edge of the examination table, his attention was on the doorway, his mind already working through an escape. "Is this a derelict spacecraft? N-not really my style..."

"Ah-ah-ah, not so fast." The other Rick had been watching him from the corner of his eye and promptly moved over to push him back onto the table. "My, you're very perceptive, aren't you? Though, I would expect nothing less from a Rick like yourself. I'm glad to see your mind still works but as I said, I'll answer all your questions when we're done here."

Rick ignored him. "Just... doesn't seem like something I would do..."

"It doesn't, but we're hardly the same person, at least in some aspects." His captor sighed in irritation. "We're getting off the subject. Right now I have some questions of my own and I need you to answer them. Do you think you could manage that?" He was staring directly at him, seeming impatient as he waited for an answer.

"How could I refuse... a-after everything you've done to get my attention?" Rick grumbled in reply, making a point of scowling at him when he caught his gaze. "N-not like I can really do anything else..."

"Another good choice." The other Rick smirked victoriously as he stepped away to prepare the hair he had snatched onto a microscope slide. "Now... the important stuff. You know I've been watching you and I've made no secret to hide that from the very beginning. I also know you were unwell earlier in the week, so... do you have any lingering symptoms from that event? Any weird hair loss or unexplained bruising? Are you bleeding internally?" He paused deliberately. "Answer as honestly as you can, no matter how embarrassing it might be. There's no judgment being passed here, because that would be counterproductive."

"C-come to mention it," Rick managed to hoarsely wheeze out, "t-th-there is one outstanding thing..."

"Oh?" The other Rick carefully placed the microscope slide back onto the small table and was staring expectantly at him now, unable to hide the look of concern on his face.

"Yeah," Rick flattened his brow, the tiniest amused smirk at the edge of his mouth, "I-I have a big crack in my butt."

The other Rick sighed at him in exasperation, his patience having completely frayed by this point. "Computer, clinical note two: Giant asshole. Repeat, giant stubborn asshole." He was furious now. "Ridiculous! Unrelentingly argumentative, has unrealistic expectations, can't be reasoned with... in fact, consider deletion of the local records when his time duration is up, because we're done here." He plucked his glasses back up and set them back onto his face, seeming genuinely unhappy as he began to prepare a needle from one of the many phials of colored liquid on his small wheeled cart. "For the record, I tried, Rick. I really did. Again, this one's on you, not me. You've forced my hand here - I'll just take everything I need without your consent. I'll stick needles and probes into every damn orifice you have. I'll take everything from you and what's more," he slammed a hand down onto the stainless-steel examination table in his anger, "I'll have FUN doing it. Fuck you for being such an asshole!"

Rick wondered if he was going to die, but that thought process really didn't make much sense now; why would the other Rick be so concerned with his health if he was only going to kill him? He had also noticed that the other Rick seemed like something was troubling him; he recognized the expression because he had looked that same way himself many times before. He would have said something about it, but he already felt the sharp sting of the needle as it was stuck into his neck. There wasn't even a hope of fighting it as his vision began to waver, and he was completely out of it within seconds.

Once the needle's contents had been administered, the other Rick carefully withdrew the syringe and threw it across the room, his expression frustrated as he watched his captive slip into unconsciousness. "Seriously, fuck you, Rick. I... I-I thought you were better than this. Why do you have to make everything so difficult?"

He paced away from the examination table once again and shook his head as he returned to his workbench to prepare a batch of testing equipment. "Computer, if I'm going to be talking to myself from here out, at least put on some damn music. Might as well just get this shit over with..."

* * *

Another unfamiliar place to wake up in, another foggy cloud of haze to fight through. Rick supposed he should be getting used to this as well; he'd been unconscious more times in the past week than he wanted to recall. As his senses began to return, he was aware of a sharp, stinging headache behind his eyes and the fact that he was naked yet again. His body also hurt; it felt like he had been stabbed several times across the midsection. Still, it wasn't the worst thing to have happened to him, all things considered.

His mind was quickly distracted by a loud, gaseous hiss right next to his ears, accompanied by an uncomfortable amount of pressure against his face. It took him a moment to work out that somebody was holding a breathing mask in place so it wouldn't move and he made a harsh sound as if to object to the violation. He attempted to move his head away, but it tracked along with his every movement as if it were not going to give in to his protests.

"Yo, douchebag," the voice sounded like yet another Rick, and he spoke with such close proximity that he concluded he was standing right beside him. "Stop moving your fuckin' head around." This one sounded far less animated than the one who had captured him on Bird World. His tone was one of total boredom, like he was repeating a task he had done countless times before. "Stop being such a tough guy and just breathe for a while. It'll all come back to you soon."

Rick decided to follow the instruction for the time being; he didn't know what he was breathing, but he already didn't trust it. It was heavily oxygenated and laced with something else that was very unpleasant to the taste. When it began to irritate the lining of his throat, he made a loud, harsh cough and tried to turn his head away again; it really was too uncomfortable for him to tolerate it.

"Aw shit, is it up too high?" The question was one of legitimate concern. "We're still trying to get the counteractive surfactant blend right. It never fails to work, but no matter what we do to the flavor, it always ends up tasting like citric acid. That, and most of you guys come out of it looking like you've been blowing a snowman." A soft, amused chuckle accompanied his words and he stepped away to begin adjusting the air-supply ratios.

Rick wanted to yank the plastic mask off his face right there and then, but both arms were quickly met with a sharp snag of resistance when he tried to move them; it seemed that he was tied up yet again. "Fuck... where... w-where the hell am I now...?" He cracked his eyes open in the attempt to answer his own question and was immediately met with dim light and a high, white ceiling. The room around him seemed to be nothing more than a sterile, white box, barely big enough to accompany the bed he was lying on and the other employee who was working at the small bench directly beside it.

His assumptions were right; the other person in the room was indeed another Rick with yet another wild, spiky haircut, though more than half of it was stuffed under the ridiculously shaped, white medical cap he was wearing. However, this one was dressed up in bizarre blue-and-white medical scrubs, their design unlike any he'd ever seen before. If his scrubs had been sterile at any point, they certainly weren't now; heavy spatters of dried blood decorated his right sleeve as well as the right side of his pants. Then he saw the same familiar badge again; a rounded, silver, three-pointed star with the capital 'R' in the middle, identical to the one that the other Rick had been wearing. It was pinned to the right side of his scrubs in the exact same position. Were they part of some kind of organization?

"Seriously? You wanna know where you are, as in, this very moment?" The Rick in medical scrubs stood over him, a wide grin coming over his face. "Man, you guys ask a lot of dumb questions when you first come to, huh? You could be asking, 'hey Rick, where are all the hot chicks?' or 'hey Rick, can you hook me up with some narcotics?' But no, you wanna know where you are. You must be one of the lame ones."

"Just... a-answer the fucking question..." Rick growled at him, coughing in between breaths; all he wanted to do was sit up and spit out the horrible bitter taste in his mouth.

"Still up too high?" The other Rick carefully pried the mask off and tossed it onto the pillow beside him. "You've breathed it long enough, the air quality in here should pick you up the rest of the way. So where are you, huh? Good question. This is a bombproof, environmentally controlled triage box situated in the guts of medi-bay three. The temperature in here is a balmy 78°F, and the atmospheric blend is 21% dry oxygen and 78% nitrogen, not accounting for the other trace elements, of course. Every time you exhale, you're throwing that percentage estimate out of balance."

It should have been fascinating, but too much was happening and his mind was far more occupied with more important things. Now that his senses were becoming more clear, all he could think about was Morty and he became worried for him all over again. "Where the hell is my grandson?" Rick practically blurted out the question, not caring how stupid he might have sounded when he spoke; it was all he wanted to know.

"Your Morty, huh? Hah, no need to worry about the little guy, he's well taken care of. He's probably off somewhere having the time of his life with the boss. We have a ball pit on Level Five, and sometimes it's fun just to go in there and pretend they're atoms. At one with the universe and all that shit." The Rick in medical scrubs picked up a clipboard and began fervently scratching down observation notes. "Oh shit, dawg. You're THAT one. Hah, I didn't realize."

"Can you just... tell me what the hell is going on?" Rick scowled as he struggled against his restraints, becoming frustrated when he discovered that he couldn't move an inch. "Get these things off me!"

"Uh, ship protocol decrees that they stay in place until you're deemed 'non violent'. Once you're clear, you'll be free to skip around and do whatever the hell you want." He shrugged, the stupid grin all over his face once again. "You tried to nut the boss. Living the dream, bro. I'd kill to do that any day, but you're... you're not gonna do that to me. Nooope. I like not being subjected to pain."

Rick put his head back down on the pillow and released an exasperated sigh from the bottom of his lungs. A harsh cough soon followed it; the surfactant powder was still very much bothering him.

"Phh, fine." The other Rick seemed to be fighting with his better judgment as he paced back over to the bedside and dumped the clipboard back down onto the table. "I don't much care to see you guys suffer anyway. But just remember, this works both ways. You have no reason to punch me in the face, or anywhere else for that matter." He removed the first restraint from Rick's left wrist and then the second from the right. Once he had removed the larger clips, he took two hasty steps backwards to get out of the way, obviously well-versed in anticipating the worst.

Rick wasn't in the least bit interested in fighting and merely sat up to begin coughing up the horrible bitter powder coating his throat. When he was handed a bottle of mineral water, he tore the lid off and downed the entire thing. The cool liquid did everything to soothe his irritated throat and he tossed the bottle aside afterwards, feeling a little better about himself. However, his mind was far more occupied with the insult of being violated while he had been out of it and he grabbed at the blanket to pull over his lower half, unwilling to give up any more personal information than necessary.

"Did that work?" The other Rick asked, seeming pleased that he hadn't turned violent. When he noticed Rick's main source of unhappiness, he made a soft, thoughtful humming sound, pondering how best to explain. "Ah yeah, that... don't worry, we did what we had to. You were out of it and the boss took biological samples for... lab testing. There's gonna be some weird bleeding later. Nothing to worry about though, diagnostically normal." He visibly relaxed in his posture again, now that he figured he wasn't going to be attacked.

"Fucking great..." Rick hissed in annoyance as he wiped the white-powder coating off his nose and mouth. He wasted no time wiping his hand on the bedsheets afterwards, wanting to get the stuff off himself as quickly as possible.

"Hey, not my problem," the other Rick shrugged, "your consent and cooperation would have been optimal, but life is made of little concessions, isn't it?"

"So what now? You woke me up to do more weird shit to me, o-or what?" Rick buried his face in his hands and made a loud, pained groan; his head was throbbing and there were just far too many questions for him to properly articulate his thoughts.

"Hey, you need drugs? I can hook you up. You're probably gonna feel like shit until the sedative wears off, so..." The Rick in medical scrubs pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed. "I see you met the boss. Calls himself Dr. Ricktus Sanchez, MD. At least, that's what he tells everybody. Though if you ask me, the whole renaming yourself thing is a joke - the point of being a Rick is to, you know, actually BE a Rick. You know what the MD really stands for? 'Major Douchebag'." He retrieved a cherry lollipop from the top pocket of his uniform and tore off the wrapper, promptly stuffing it into his mouth. "Congratulations, bro... you really did a number on him. I-I've never seen him so pissed off before." The mere thought made him snicker all over again.

"What the hell did I even do to him...?" Rick made another unhappy groan; the familiar nagging desire to have a drink had returned with a vengeance.

"Hah, how do I even begin to answer that?" The other Rick pulled the hat off his head and tossed it onto the workbench, taking a moment to scratch a hand through the thick, unkempt spikes on top of his head. "You wanna sleep that off? I mean, what time was it on the planet we pulled you from... morning? It's the middle of the night here, so you're not gonna miss a whole lot."

"Just... do me one huge favor. Tell me what the hell is going on..." Rick grumbled back at him. "Why am I here? Why the fuck did you pull me out of my dimension?"

The other Rick's first reply was nothing more than a casual, bored grunt. Then he shrugged his shoulders again and kicked his feet up on the edge of the bed, not seeming to care in the slightest that his charge was still in it. "Because it's our job."

"This... t-this is your job...?" Rick raised his head and was staring at him all over again, wide-eyed. "Y-your job is to..." He stopped, his mind not being able to grapple the concept in his confusion. "I don't even-" He stopped again. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because you were at the top of the priority list. That's actually the short version, but..." The other Rick began to yawn. "How long are we gonna be doing this? You're the last one on my shift and it's late. I wanna clock off and get riggity riggity wrecked, son! Plus there's a new episode of 'That Doesn't Fit In There' coming up on channel 672. Reeaally good TV show, and the title is pretty self-descriptive."

"Priority list...?" Rick raised an eyebrow. No matter how hard he tried, he just wasn't able to hide how confused he was.

"Ugh, do you want my entire fucking job description?" The other Rick's mood began to sour as he sunk his teeth into the lollipop, crunching up the sugary shards in his teeth. "Look, I'm happy you're awake, but we could be here for hours answering your dumb questions. Can we hurry this along?" He casually reached beside him and began to pick through the medical equipment on his small table, soon finding a suitable pair of tiny surgical scissors and tweezers. "Wanna be useful for me? Lie down on your stomach, 'cause you have more outstanding issues I gotta take care of before I can dump your ass in recovery. It'll probably take some time, so I can answer more of your stupid bullshit while I work. Lucky you, huh?"

Rick was incredibly annoyed about what he was hearing, but did as he was told this time; the prospect of having the minefield of questions answered greatly appealed to him. Rather strategically, he held onto the blanket with one hand at the line of his hips as he rolled underneath it and lay on his stomach, burying his face into the pillow shortly afterwards.

The other Rick watched his careful movements and rolled his eyes, ignoring it for the time being. "So, uh... what do you wanna know?" As he got to his feet, he snapped on a pair of latex gloves and stood over the other, his attention immediately glued to the multiple gauze pads taped all across his charge's back. "Holy shit. Your file wasn't kidding when it said you got cut up like crazy. Damn, yo. I mean, I read it, but I didn't really wanna see it."

Rick made a soft, grumbling noise of protest as he repositioned the blanket, not wanting to be deprived of it any more than needed. "It was just an unavoidable consequence from doing what was necessary."

"Tch, relax, would ya? You got nothing to hide. In fact, you could make other people feel insecure about themselves if you know what I mean." The other Rick began to snicker again. "For the record, I'm not interested in seeing your junk, so stop worrying about it." After ripping off the first three patches of gauze, he tossed them onto the table beside them. "And don't be so dismissive of what happened to you, damn. I see lots of you idiots every day, but this one's new to me. It's not a bad thing, though... you've attracted quite the amount of interest. The boss is pretty fucking impressed."

"He didn't seem very impressed..." The statement was muffled as Rick grumbled into the pillow. "Is he trying to kill me, or what? I don't get it."

"Hah, no. Nobody wants to kill you here. Far from it, actually." The other Rick hunched over the other, narrowing his eyes as he tried to work out which sutures to pick out first. "Don't worry too much about the boss, he's... he'll come around. He's not dangerous, even if he tries to be. He was just trying to help you and you basically spat in his face. Not my fault that he wanted to teach you a lesson about it. You play by your own rules, you hate being told what to do. Well, guess what? So does he. Inevitably, one of you is going to lose. Unfortunately, it was you this time."

Rick wasn't entirely certain how to feel about what he was hearing. He supposed the news that he wasn't going to die was good, but he still wasn't sure if he could trust it; he barely knew this person to begin with, even if he was another version of himself. The way he had been brought in also wasn't sitting well in his mind.

"Who the hell stitched you back up?" The other Rick's next question came out rather abruptly. "Because they did such a terrible job of it that I actually feel insulted for you. You're gonna have wicked uneven scars. Pity we couldn't bag you up sooner, I would have made these seamless... fuckin' amateur bullshit." He snipped through three sutures and carefully pulled them out with the pair of tweezers. "Your file says they were supposed to come out days ago. I bet some of them are already starting to get re-infected an-"

"Wait, what?" Rick cut him off. "I'm no expert on that shit, but even I know they're supposed to stay in longer than a week. That doesn't make sense."

"Yeah, I hear you bro," the other Rick nodded at him. "You'd be totally right under normal circumstances, but..." He went silent, seeming conflicted. "Look, just go talk to the boss, OK? He kinda interfered with you before he was supposed to. I actually can't say much more, but the answer you're gonna get is actually pretty cool."

Rick scowled, becoming frustrated with the lack of explanation. He made an uncomfortable sound as the next round of gauze padding was torn off his back, but he lay there and did his best to tolerate what was happening to him; at least getting them pulled out hurt far less than getting stitched up in the first place. "What can you answer? I don't get it... what's the point to all of this? if you're not going to kill me, then why did you bring me here?"

The other Rick hummed thoughtfully. "Yeah I get it, you wanna know everything. Not sure how much you wanna hear from me and how much you wanna hear from the source. You see, I'm just a silver. I-I'm nothing more than a low-tier grunt in the grand scheme of things." He snipped through another line of sutures and casually plucked them out. "You can call me C-711, or Rick, or 'Surgeon Rick' as they like to call me back at HQ. Which is pretty ironic considering I lost my license to practice years ago."

"You're... not qualified?"

"Oh dude, you did NOT." He visibly flinched. "That is some dangerous territory right there and I'm gonna have to ask you to stop or else these scissors are going to get a lot more... stabby." Surgeon Rick narrowed his eyes, his expression turning dark. "I'm qualified and DON'T you forget it. That shit doesn't get nullified just because you get fired, y'know."

"Sheesh, whatever." Rick scowled, irritated with the direction the conversation was taking. "Look, just give me anything here, I don't know shit. Y-you... you know how frustrating that is?"

"Did you want the short version?" Surgeon Rick moved onto the next line of sutures and began snipping through them. "We pulled you outta your dimension because you're sick, bro. That and... other things. We woulda done it a lot sooner too, but the big boss at HQ was being a giant douche. You didn't get the memo?"

"What?" Rick raised his head, scowling back at the other. "I'm not sick."

"Uh, duh. Yeah you are, otherwise you wouldn't be here. You should actually be dead by now, but I think we probably saved your life. You're welcome, by the way." Surgeon Rick was beaming from ear to ear, seeming proud of himself. "Now stop moving so I can finish this, huh?"

"Wait wait, wait..." Rick shoved him away as he propped himself up on his elbows. "OK, stop. Stop right there, I don't want the short version. You're just giving me even more questions to ask here, just... tell me everything you know."

"Ugh, fine..." Surgeon Rick stepped back from him, allowing him what little space he could offer in the small room. "None of this was random circumstance, but don't take it personally. You were just a number that came up on the main terminal in the work hub." He tossed the small tools he was holding aside and retrieved the clipboard from his small table. "You see, our job is pretty straightforward. Every day, HQ gives us a list of Ricks to go check out and most of that job is just... well, you can learn more about that later. Anyway, your number wasn't too interesting initially. We actually saw your dimension bump up into the top ten about a week ago... yesterday it was priority-one. Not even a regular priority-one, just... red flashing numbers, serious fucking business. They REALLY wanted you alive."

Rick sat up on the edge of the bed properly now, his face a mix of confusion and suspicion as he listened carefully to what the other was saying. "Why?"

"Not a question I can answer, brother. Escalate that one higher up. As I said, I'm just a grunt... all I do is clean up the messes they keep sending me." Surgeon Rick shrugged as he idly leafed through the pages of the clipboard. "It seems like you got yourself in all kinds of trouble, so here we are. When the boss sent the initial communications to your portal gun, he figured you'd use your better judgment and that your natural curiosity would win over your suspicion. When you stayed behind, he thought it wise to teach you a lesson you'd never forget." He gave the other a harsh, judgmental glare from over the top of the clipboard. "You fucked up HARD, bro. Don't leave your portal gun behind again. It's not wise to do that... ever. The multiverse is a dangerous place. We're kinda getting killed out there and I'm sick of dealing with the fallout."

"I get it, I get it, holy shit..." Rick crossed his arms across his chest in a huff, his attention on the floor as he flattened his brow as low as it would go. "So what is this place? And what the fuck makes you think I'm sick?"

"If you wanna read your file when we're done here, be my guest." Surgeon Rick shrugged at him. "You're probably going to live, but... b-but there's really no predicting what might happen, so the boss is probably gonna keep you around until you're in the clear. Just a head's up there, bro."

"Fucking great..." Rick really wasn't liking what he was hearing and his mind was already back on pondering an escape plan. If he was genuinely sick, he would rather deal with it on his own terms than risk staying in the care of people he didn't even know or trust.

"This entire place is just a pile of derelict garbage floating around in space. It used to be an alien-mercenary, slash-mining ship whose name roughly translates to 'Verdant Harbinger', though we usually just call it the green turd, or the gangrenous erection. You'd totally see why that is as soon as you see a map." He seemed far too happy as he gave the description. "You were picked up as part of a salvage operation. So far it's the first of its kind, but I'm sure HQ will ramp their efforts up before too long because we kinda need more of you fuckers to stay alive." The other Rick visibly stiffened in his posture, acting out a proud, mocking pose as he continued. "You have been pulled from the depths of mediocrity and hopelessness because you are 'a Rick of interest'. We're basically giving you a second chance at life and the opportunity to screw it up again in a completely new and interesting way."

Rick snorted in disgust. "Did you rehearse that one?"

"Hah, it's a bit. You'll probably hear the real one before too long." Surgeon Rick stood over him, the dangerous grin returning to his face. "If you wanna keep asking questions, then at least shuffle forwards and let me finish up here, huh? The rest of your sutures need to come out and I imagine some of them are getting pretty disgusting by now."

Rick muttered incoherently under his breath as he complied with the request. He sat on the very edge of the bed and hunched forwards to stare down at the floor. His head still hurt, but it was still the least of his concerns for the time being.

Surgeon Rick picked up the surgical scissors and scooted onto the bed, sitting down in the space behind his dimensional double. "Holy hell, when was the last time you had a shower? You smell like a gym sock that got stuffed up the inside of somebody's ass."

"Just shut up and finish what you're doing... I-I don't want to be here, and neither do you." Rick's mood was deteriorating fast. He was already in pain, but with the new information he had to process and the fact that the other was now in his personal space, it was taking him considerable effort to keep himself contained.

"If you wanna know more about the ship, I'll give you a datapad once you're in recovery so you can check out the schematics." Surgeon Rick retrieved the pair of tweezers and resumed working. "It's a pretty impressive feat of mechanical engineering by Earth standards. Apparently, this huge bitch was born and built in space and back in her heyday, she was able to carry entire fleets across the galaxy. She was mostly used for reconnaissance and to carry large quantities of ore between planets."

"I don't care."

"Does this mean you're done asking stupid shit?" Surgeon Rick's voice carried a tone of hope. "Because I'm totally cool with not talking anymore. I wanna finish this up 'cause my TV show probably already started."

"Why don't you just record it?" Rick grunted, feeling like he was stating the obvious. "Whatever, I-I don't care. I don't want to be here."

"Yeah, I hear you, brother. I totally hear you." Surgeon Rick took a moment to gently pat his charge on the shoulder. "Yet here we are because you're so stubborn about living that you were willing to take about thirty fucking pieces of shrapnel to the back just to keep your Morty safe. You seriously gave up everything just to keep him alive. That takes some huge fucking cojones, buddy."

Rick's only response was an unhappy grunt; he didn't want to think about it.

"Look, if it's any reassurance, we want you alive. But don't think by any account that you're a special case. What happened to you? It's more or less the same in every dimension. I've seen so much shit that I'm literally incapable of feeling anything about it anymore. Ricks are being picked off their timelines like flies." As Surgeon Rick pulled off the remaining pieces of gauze padding, he paused hesitantly before yanking the final one off Rick's butt. "Our dimensional brothers are being hunted down like dogs. Whether it be by the Feds, intergalactic terrorists, alien dictators and despots, mercenaries, or even other rogue versions of ourselves."

Rick responded with a harsh yelp. "Some fucking warning next time?! What kind of physician are you meant to be anyway?"

"I dunno, what kind of Rick are you meant to be? A generic, boring one?" His attention was on the curved injury and he poked at it with a gloved finger before snipping through the sutures, pulling them out as quickly as he could. "At least you could draw eyes on this one and make a smiley face. So that's something, I guess. What made this one?"

"A portal gun bulb." Rick's answer was a harsh growl and he went stiff as a board, not wanting the other anywhere near him despite the fact he knew it was necessary. "I had the brilliant idea of not taking it out of my back pocket when I fell on it."

"Haha, bummer. Literally." The other Rick smirked back at him. "You can relax now, I don't have to touch it anymore."

"You better not..."

"Oh, would you stop being such a baby?" The question was only half-serious as he poked him in the shoulder. "As I was saying, you can't afford to sit idle anymore. Times are changing, and we're no longer safe. The multiverse is an eternal pool of pain and injustice and each dimension is its own cruel mistress playing with life and death. We're tired of it. There's no longer any benefit to the non-interference code, so..."

"So you pulled me out of my dimension to save me, yet you're not going to tell me why." Rick was a dangerous mixture of bitter, angry, and tired. "Pretty fucking terrible way to do it. I was doing quite fine on my own before your boss showed up."

"Uh, no, you weren't. Big reminder: you nearly froze to death in a hole. Like, what the fuck is even up with that?" Surgeon Rick narrowed his eyes suddenly as something particularly concerning had caught his attention; one of the healing injuries in the middle of Rick's back was particularly red and infected. "Dude, you might want to hold onto something." He pulled the sutures out and began to firmly palpate the red area with two fingers. "This is going to suck."

"What?" Rick wanted to know what was going on, but his question was quickly answered by sharp, stabbing pain. "Ow, fuck! W-what the hell are you doing to me now!?"

"Just relax, bro." The reply was uncharacteristically gentle. "The asshole who stitched you up didn't even bother to clean this one up... pity you can't sue them. Has hippie bird society advanced far enough to have developed a competent legal system?"

Rick wanted to reply but found himself tense and gritting his teeth hard instead; the pain he was experiencing right now was almost unbearable.

Surgeon Rick ignored his protests as he persisted. "You're gonna need antibiotics, this one is particularly gross. You're lucky you're not looking at it." Despite his words, he was grinning, seeming to be enjoying the experience. After a few more moments of poking, his efforts were rewarded as he managed to pry the offending piece of shrapnel out of his charge's flesh. "Not too much blood, considering. I'll tape this one up with steri-strips so don't go too hard on it when you take a shower later." He held it up to the light, taking a moment to examine it. "Huh, looks like it came off a regular old car from Earth, how boring. And just think, you were going around with that in your back all week." He leaned forward to place it on the bed beside the other, chuckling. "You want a souvenir?"

As Rick glanced down at the piece of shrapnel, his eyes widened in realization of what it was - the topside was flecked in red automotive paint: it was from Beth's car. He'd been walking around with a piece of her car stuck in his back and it was all he had left of her. Everything around him suddenly sounded distant. He had a strange feeling of falling inward and buried his face in his hands, trying to push it out of his mind again. He didn't want to think about it.

"Dude. Are you OK there?" Surgeon Rick moved out from behind him and stood up again, taking a moment to study his change in posture. "Don't have a meltdown on me. We all have a lot of shit to work through, but you'd probably feel a lot better if you talk to the boss tomorrow morning. Yeah?"

Rick didn't reply.

"Ugh, I'm not equipped to deal with this..." Surgeon Rick muttered as he turned away to rifle through the top drawer of the table, promptly locating the pack of the steri-strips he was after. He discarded his gloves for a fresh set, and then leaned over the other again, using several of them to tape up the offending injury. "You're all set. My next set of instructions are simple - follow me. I am to escort you to recovery. Go eat something, take a shower, and just... go to bed. I wish I could tell you that shit will get better, but it generally doesn't. But hey, you didn't get this far for nothing, right?"

Rick just stared at the floor through his fingers, silent.

"At least you're not annoying me with more questions." Surgeon Rick offered with an awkward laugh. "Phh, whatever." He carefully pried the blanket out from under the other, then wrapped it around his shoulders. "Look, it's no problem for me if you don't wanna talk, but," he moved over to the doorway and punched several buttons on the keypad to deactivate the air-lock, "follow me, otherwise that would present a real problem." The door in front of him opened with a loud, mechanical hiss and he began to lead the way.

As Rick got to his feet, he picked up the piece of shrapnel and held it tightly in his hand; as painful as the reminder was, he wasn't about to leave it behind. Holding onto the blanket with his other hand, he stepped out into the dimly-lit corridor. His senses were immediately assaulted with the same harsh, acidic odor he'd picked up on first being dragged into the place and it managed to knock him back to reality. "What the fuck is that stench?"

As he stared at the path ahead, he noticed that the place was literally crawling with the same strange, green-and-grey insects that had dragged him onto the ship, and they all seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere. When one got in the way of another, they simply climbed up the wall to continue their journey, and some of them were even running along the ceiling. They scooted around the other Rick ahead as if making a point of getting out of his way.

"Short answer? Propolis. Long answer, the most populous species on board decided to make extensive repairs after the ship was damaged." Surgeon Rick stopped momentarily to tap his foot on one of the bioluminescent cracks underneath him as he paced down the corridor. "Cool, huh? Despite how it smells, it's actually not gonna do you any harm. There's probably several million dollars worth of the stuff to be harvested if you were that bored."

"Why bees?"

"Why the fuck not?" Surgeon Rick laughed as he continued to lead the way. "Actually, that's only partly true. They're a very successful genetic experiment... what do you get when you mix preying mantis, butterfly, and alien-space-bee DNA? You get these fuckers." He stuck his leg out and tripped one over, promptly kicking it in the side while it was on the ground. "If you ever need something to take your anger out on, go for it. As far as they're concerned, anything with your DNA is God to them."

"So... this place is a hive?" Rick raised an eyebrow as he watched the other abuse the smaller insectoid creature. At least he knew he wasn't going to be stung.

"It never used to be but I guess it is now, huh?" Surgeon Rick smirked in amusement. "Apparently there never used to be more than six of them, but their numbers exploded after the original ship owners went and got themselves blown up," he paused, "come on, it's late. You can learn more about this stuff later."

Rick wanted to ask more, but he supposed it was just getting annoying by now. He simply put his head down and glared hard at the other Rick's back, deciding to comply with his instructions for the time being. As soon as he knew more about his surroundings, he was sure he could formulate some kind of plan to get out of there.

* * *

The rest of the journey was spent in relative silence, save for the buzzing hive of activity going on around them. Now that Rick thought about it, he was curious to know more about the place he was in and how it got to be in such a state of disrepair. Being in space was certainly nothing new to him, but he simply couldn't work out what business the other dimensional versions of himself could possibly have in a place like this. Genetic experimentation and salvage operations didn't make much sense on their own - it all had to be part of something bigger, he just knew it; it was already bugging him.

"Yo, bitch, it's up here. Welcome to your home for the next 24 hours." Surgeon Rick broke the silence. The door in front of him was nothing more than an elongated hexagon and no recognizable markings or numbers seemed to exist on any of the doors in this area of the ship. "You're actually pretty fortunate. You've been given rather cushy digs to wait out your time in until you're released back into the wild."

"You say that like this is a catch-and-release program..." Rick grumbled back at him, "Wh-what do you think I am?"

The other Rick ignored him. "Everything you should need is in here. There's a communication button on the console of your bed if you wanna annoy us. Ship protocol decrees that we station you in quarantine until we sort your shit out. The boss also wants to hold onto you until your lab results come back, so hey, you're not going to die immediately. At least, we hope not... so try not to die if you can, 'cause we don't have a high survival ratio at the moment."

"That's... reassuring..."

The other Rick punched a quick sequence of numbers into the panel beside the door, and it opened before them with a loud, hydraulic hiss. "Get in there. And remember, take a shower because you stink. See you in a bit, bro."

Rick stepped into the room, scowling as it slammed shut behind him. He immediately took inventory of his new surroundings; there was a large, spacious bunk bed recessed into the right wall of the room and a baby crib had been positioned on the floor next to it. He took note of a fresh set of clothing that had been folded up as if waiting for him at the foot of the bed.

The room itself wasn't large, but not uncomfortably small either; it was certainly bigger than the white box in which he had awakened. Everything had been painted a dull, military grey from floor to ceiling, and the whole setup reminded him more of a cheap hotel room than a quarantine cell. There was a small table in the middle of the room that had been piled up with books, along with three bottles of mineral water, an unopened bottle of scotch whiskey, and five small, silver pouches, their purpose unknown to him for the time being. The room also had a small bathroom attached, which he supposed was necessary if he was going to be stuck there for a while.

"Geez, how long have you been planning this one out? I-is this supposed to fill me with a sense of security? Because it's not working." Rick grumbled aloud as he tossed the blanket onto the floor. He dropped the piece of automotive shrapnel onto the small table and made his way into the bathroom. He wasted no time retreating into the shower cubicle and adjusted the knobs to a comfortable setting. He was immediately met with the welcome sensations of warm, cascading water splashing down over his head and body. He rested his head against the wall in front of him as he let the water wash over him, knowing that although it was stupidly basic to enjoy such a small comfort, he had just forgotten how good it was.

His mind was already wandering again and that thought in itself had caused another; the curse of being so intelligent meant that he could rarely stop it. He missed Morty. He wondered what the others could possibly be doing to him and he couldn't help but feel concerned. Simply not knowing was the worst part of all and as much as he wanted to stay there and relax under the water, his mind just wouldn't leave him alone again until he knew the little boy was safe.

There were three dispensers on the wall; soap, shampoo, and personal lubricant. Rick snorted in particular disgust at the last observation and moved off the wall again, suddenly not wanting to know what had taken place in the shower cubicle before his arrival. He wasted no more time as he washed himself off properly, being glad for the fact he could finally wash his hair as well; he couldn't remember the last time he had been able to do a decent job of it and was sure it must have been absolutely disgusting. Once properly rinsed off again, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed two towels from the rail directly beside the cubicle; the first was promptly tucked around his midsection and the other was used to dry himself off.

By the time he had finished and stepped out of the bathroom again, another welcome sensation had hit him – the smell of food. He quickly found a foil tray waiting for him on the table along with a plastic fork. Although it was probably nothing more than a cheap reheated TV dinner, he began wolfing it down like he hadn't eaten anything in years; it was certainly the best thing he'd eaten in a while.

"Hah, don't choke on that," the voice behind him spoke suddenly. "That would be a rather dumb way to die."

Rick picked up the foil tray and turned around to glare back at the other male.

Surgeon Rick had returned to the room with a very-cranky Morty, who kept trying to pummel him with flaying limbs. "You wanna take this little shit or what?" He grinned back at him. "I gotta give him credit, though... your Morty is perceptive as fuck. Most Mortys we've encountered are pretty dumb, but not yours. No way man, this one saw the boss as a giant fraud within minutes. I didn't fare much better either, I mean, he's all up in my grill trying to kick my ass."

Rick simply stood there and shoveled another portion of the reheated food into his mouth. "Let him hit you, y-you deserve it," he swallowed, quickly adding, "fuck you for keeping me here, by the way." He quickly finished off the tray of food and tossed it onto the table, stepping away to retrieve the set of clothes waiting for him on the bed.

"Yeah I get that, but if we save your life, then the end justifies the means." Surgeon Rick's expression turned rather serious, at least until he received a hefty whack to the jaw. "Stubborn-ass brat. Kinda like you, am I right?" Despite his words, he was quite happy to stand there and take it. "Oh, before I forget... you'll find a new set of underwear in that pile. Doesn't really seem like your style to keep going commando."

"Wow," Rick grumbled as he stepped past the other, carrying the pile of clothes into the bathroom. "Just HOW long did you say you've been stalking me?" He slammed the door shut behind him.

"Long enough?" The reply was smug.

After getting dressed, Rick stepped back into the room and adjusted the lapels of his lab coat; he had to admit that in spite of everything, he was cleaner than he had been in a long time.

"Well, well, look at you. You certainly scrub up well, that's for sure." Surgeon Rick handed Morty back over and retreated towards the door again, intending to leave them alone a while. "I'm sure we'll be able to tell you exactly what's wrong with you in 24 hours time. Try not to die until at least then, huh? If you get hungry before breakfast, there's some nutrient pouches on your table. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have all your food pulped up and measured out into nutritionally complete, individual baggies that don't taste like anything? Yeah, me neither. Enjoy them, they don't smell weird... a-at all. Nope." He seemed grateful for the escape and promptly left through the open door.

As Rick watched him depart, he almost felt embarrassed for him; how the hell was that guy meant to be a different dimensional representation of himself? He'd seen slight variations thus far, but most of them had been fairly similar. However, that one was completely off the rails and they were nothing alike. At all.

After the air-lock had hissed shut again, he held onto Morty firmly in one hand as he used the other to rub at his forehead in irritation. "Ugh... sorry you had to get tied up in my shit again, little buddy... though the last one was on you. Can't blame me for that."

Morty was still trying to work out what was going on. He'd picked the first two Ricks he had met before as frauds; neither of them had looked the part and he had let them know all about it by attacking them. While this one both behaved and smelled authentic, he still felt very unsure about the situation.

Rick carried Morty over to the bunk and pushed the crib out of the way. He had no idea why they had thrown it in the room; if they had been paying even the slightest amount of attention they would have noticed that he was in the habit of just taking the little boy to bed with him. It kept him quiet and he didn't mind his presence. At least that much had worked out between them.

As Rick lay down on the bunk, he set the little boy on the space next to him, his attention on the window latch at the bottom. He reached over to flick it up, and opening the window revealed a generously sized, clear panel that looked out onto the gaseous nebula that the ship was presently sailing through. It was an absolutely brilliant array of purple and blues, speckled with fiery oranges and deep colors a few hues above ultraviolet. He knew there were certainly more colors but what he could see was obviously bound by his own physical limitations.

Morty had already pressed his face against the window to look, and the little boy stared in wonderment at the display outside, positively fascinated by it.

Rick unfolded the blanket and pulled it around himself, just lying there as he watched the little boy's reaction, mildly amused by it. He was reminded of just how young Morty was; he really was seeing it for the first time. Rick could only hope to ever feel that way about space again; as far as he was concerned, it was just yet another nebula to him, and he'd seen so many that they just couldn't hold his interest anymore. "I forgot that you haven't been in space before..." He yawned. "So you like what you see, huh? Welcome to my domain."

Morty's reply was a soft, cooing sound, and he plastered his face to the window. He wanted to reach out and grab the pretty colors but his little hands only met glass. He began to smack the hard surface and made the tiniest, high-pitched growl.

Rick couldn't help but chuckle at the sound. He knew it was a learned response, but it still sounded so silly coming from the little boy. "Sorry, buddy... but that's not how space works. You don't want to be out there, trust me." He set his head back on the pillow behind him, staring up at the ceiling. "While you probably wouldn't explode, the depressurization wouldn't do very good things to you."

He tried to relax, but his mind just wouldn't let him. The bed wasn't uncomfortable at all and neither was the pillow, but it was all too convenient and contrived. He wondered if the whole setup was an elaborate ruse to get something out of him, but he couldn't figure out what that might be. There simply had to be something more to it; nobody would spend this amount of time just to send him on his way again.

As he stared up at the ceiling, his gaze drifted across the panels that made up the surface of the roof. His attention was suddenly on a singular silver screw in the middle and he sat up a little, his eyes following the panel seams, soon finding another screw. Once he had located four of them, he was back on his feet, looking around the room for something to repurpose into a screwdriver.

"Hang back, Morty. I've just thought of something." As he glanced back at the little kid, he noticed the console above his bed had a silver trim around it, figuring it was worth a shot. He dug his fingers into it and aggressively yanked the piece of metal off, turning it over in his fingers afterwards to check how solid it was. It was pliable but still relatively firm; more than suitable for his intentions. He promptly snapped three sides off and tossed them over his shoulder, seeming pleased that he didn't need to do much more to the length of metal; it was flat enough for what he was about to do with it.

Morty turned around to watch the crazy behavior unfolding before him; his grandpa was making more than enough noise to gain his attention. For some reason unknown to him, he watched Rick place a chair on the table, and now he was piling books on top of that. The little boy moved off the bed and casually sauntered over to get a better look when Rick climbed up onto the pile of books. It was beyond the capability of his young mind to work out what was going on, but it looked like his grandfather was having fun. He made a loud, happy squeal and raised both arms up, wanting to join in.

"This is a bad time to do that, Morty. Shut up, would you? Your grandpa is trying to work through something." As Rick used the piece of repurposed trim to pick at the screws, he was pleased by his good fortune; not only were they easy to get out, but they had nothing more than simple flat-heads on them.

Morty sat on his butt and went silent, seeming to understand the instruction.

Rick noticed the movement and stared down at him. "Did... did you actually listen to me for once? What else are you hiding in that little mind of yours?" He set his attention back to task and once he'd removed all four screws, he dug the makeshift implement under the roof panel to lever it out of place. "Wow, so much for factoring in every parameter, huh? Plan for this scenario, assholes!" He carefully pushed it up and slid it into the cavity above, then stood up tall to poke his head in through the hole.

What he found inside was everything he had hoped for and more; the cavity above the roof was spacious enough for him to easily move around in. It was obviously used for maintenance, because there were guard rails off to the side that led onwards into the darkness; they more than likely led elsewhere around the ship.

As Rick hopped down off the pile of books, a couple of them fell down after him. He didn't care and simply picked Morty up, stuffing the bottle of whiskey and the piece of shrapnel into one of his coat pockets for safekeeping. "I don't know where that hatch leads, b-but you're coming with me. They're fucking crazy if they think we're gonna quietly hang around here and do what we're told. Quarantine, my ass!"

Rick precariously climbed the pile of books again and carefully lifted Morty up into the hole. After making sure he was safe, he hauled himself in after him. Just to cover his tracks, he kicked the pile of books and the chair over for good measure and slid the roof panel back over the hole again; the only evidence left behind were the four screws on the ground and the mess on the floor.

He knew that this was surely one of his worst escape plans yet, but it certainly had to be better than staying there.


	14. Utterly Ricked Up

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
 **Rated:** \- T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights: ** You're 14 chapters into this and if you think I own Rick and Morty by now, there's something wrong with you. Created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon, (c) Starburns Industries (2013-2014), Rick and Morty, LLC (2015 to Present).

 **NOTE:** Alas, this was delayed, but not for lack of wanting to work on it. I probably should have staggered the release of the earlier chapters, but hopefully I can start moving faster with the updates again soon. Enjoy this slightly less hectic installment. Please consider reviewing if you're enjoying so far. :)

* * *

 _It all seemed so perfect  
_ _It all seemed like everything was right  
_ _It all seemed so perfect  
_ _It all seemed so fine  
_ _Until it was not_

 _So keep your head down  
_ _Keep your hands where I can see them  
_ _No I can't let you, no, I can't let you  
_ _Keep your head down  
_ _Keep your hands where I can see them  
_ _No, I can't let you, no, I can't let you leave_

 _This'll all be over soon_

\- _Another Set of Issues – OK Go_

* * *

 **Chapter 14 – Utterly Ricked Up  
**

 **November 26th, 3:26am Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316 **

* * *

"What am I supposed to be looking at?"

The question was spoken with a tone of subdued anger. There were three things Dr. Ricktus Sanchez hated more than anything; cold coffee, running out of wine, and being awakened in the middle of the night. He had no coffee, no wine, and now he found himself awake at three in the morning.

When he had gotten the initial alert that something had happened to his captive, he got out of bed with sudden haste, his mind only being able to imagine what kind of sight was waiting for him at the other end.

Now that he was in the room, all he wanted to do was find the source of the disturbance. He stared at the ceiling, but found nothing of interest. A quick look around the room didn't give him any further information; all he saw was the mess of books haphazardly scattered across the floor along with the singular chair, which lay on its side. Everything else in the room was exactly as he had set it up in the first place, completely untouched. The only noteworthy thing was his dimensional-double assistant who was nervously pacing, his attention glued to the small handheld computer he was holding.

"Again," Ricktus's tone was unkind as he spoke, fast becoming impatient. "You woke me up for this? What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Ah, sir?" Surgeon Rick risked a nervous glance in the direction of his boss and awkwardly bit his lower lip; he knew he was prone to bouts of anger and didn't want to be his next target. "You don't see what I'm seeing?"

"What are you getting at?" Ricktus lowered his head just enough that he could condescendingly glare over the top of his glasses. "I don't see anything."

"Precisely, sir."

Ricktus had to turn away at that point; if he was to keep a professional air, he needed to stay calm and focused. His attention was back on the floor, then on the ceiling again. He knew what he was supposed to be looking at but couldn't work it out. Then it finally dawned on him; the Rick he had captured wasn't alive or dead - he wasn't even there and he had taken his Morty with him.

"He... they escaped?" The doctor mentally berated himself; it seemed so obvious now. He quickly blamed his lack of perception on tiredness and resumed staring at the floor. There was no further evidence he could see other than four small screws in amongst the mess of books. "I'm... I'm actually really impressed. How did he manage it?"

"Checking surveillance footage, sir." Surgeon Rick's reply was suddenly upbeat, now that he knew he wasn't going to be scolded. He tapped the screen of his handheld computer several times as he accessed the required data. "It seems that he made a standing platform out of the reading material you left for him. Then he ripped up the bed console and... he used it as a screwdriver and a prying tool. That's when he got the roof panel off and climbed in. Took his Morty up there, too."

"Impressive... where is he now?" Ricktus followed the seam lines of the ceiling panels with his eyes, but could see no further evidence of escape. "Clever bastard..."

"One can only take a guess, sir." Surgeon Rick followed his gaze upwards and shrugged. "But he won't get far. This sequence of rooms happens to be bookended by two impenetrable bulkheads. That's not an over exaggeration either, they'd survive a direct hit from a nuclear-missile strike. He can move around up there and maybe he can even get into another room below, but without the door codes he's just stuck in this area of the ship. He's trapped like a rat."

"Excellent," Ricktus nodded his head once, seeming pleased with the information. "Do me a favor and get a communicator up there."

"Sir?" Surgeon Rick raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"He's me, so I know how he thinks." Ricktus grinned back at him. "If there's anything I've been able to reliably predict with all the Ricks we've dealt with thus far, it's that when something piques their curiosity, they just can't help themselves. So get the ceiling open and get a communicator up to him. At the very least he'll use it if just for the chance to bitch at us."

"Can you give me a communicator, too? I too would like the opportunity to bitch at you." Although it was a statement of playful mockery, he spoke it with the same professional air, not missing a beat.

"You're standing right next to me, off you go." Ricktus paused, narrowing his eyes, his next statement semi-serious. "Or should I be bitching at you for not getting on top of this sooner?"

"Ugh, gimme a break... you know how long I spent with him?" Surgeon Rick huffed in reply. "I'm gonna start demanding overtime, boss. You think either of us wanna be awake right now? Dude, I don't even wanna be here. All I wanted to do was watch 'That Doesn't Fit In There' and get smashed off my face!"

Ricktus hummed in thought, ignoring his complaints entirely. "Why don't you get Fleur up there?" He paused, smirking in amusement. "Because she's more useful than you ever were."

"Wow, boss... you really know how to prey on a guy's insecurities. You're such a jerk." Surgeon Rick almost seemed upset. "Good luck with that one... like I can find one of your fucking bees among the thousands out there. You... you know they all look the same, right?"

"I can tell the difference," Ricktus shook his head as he stepped out of the open doorway. "It's not my problem if you want to take it personally, C-711. Do your job properly next time. You were quite capable of handling this without me." He disappeared down the corridor, leaving the other to himself in the room.

Surgeon Rick watched him go, then resumed glaring at the screen of his computer. "Fuckin' asshole... w-why do I even work here again?"

* * *

Meanwhile in the roof above them, Rick was holed up in the darkest part of the maintenance cavity. His escape plan hadn't worked out quite as well as he had hoped; he'd traversed the entire area four times and still hadn't found a way out. They were as trapped up there as they had been down in the room, and now Morty was becoming grouchy because he wanted food. Rick wasn't faring much better either; he was drowsy and bored, and there was nothing to do up there. At least the room below had been more comfortable and there was something to read. Being in the darkness with his thoughts wasn't something the scientist wanted to face.

When Rick heard the loud clattering nearby, he narrowed his eyes and locked his attention on the location of the noise, trying to discern what it was. His query was quickly answered as a singular member of the hive pushed her way through the same roofing panel that Rick himself had loosened to get up there in the first place, light flooding into the dark space around her.

"Fuck..." Rick hissed aloud as he picked up Morty and scooted into the back corner of the area, his back lightly bumping up against the cold steel wall behind him.

There was no point in hiding; the bee-creature had already heard him. Her chitinous, armored claws rattled across the roofing panels as she crawled towards the pair, her antennae excitedly twitching as she zeroed in on Rick's chemical scent. She moved closer and made soft buzzing sounds, her posture low and submissive as she sat on her haunches. She cocked her head to the side, revealing the fact that she was wearing a collar, also exposing the communication device that had been clipped onto it. The worker bee began to groom her scythe claws with her mandibles and curled sticky tongue, seeming completely uninterested in anything else; as far as she was concerned, her job was over. She had done exactly what her master had asked for.

Morty stared at the overgrown insect, forgetting all about his hunger. He recognized what it was and only bad memories came with the association of its presence. When he tried to wriggle out of Rick's arms, he cried in protest as he discovered that he couldn't budge. He wanted to get as far away from it as possible; he didn't want to be there.

 _"Can you hear me, Rick?"_ The sound coming out of the communicator was both crackly and poor in clarity. _"While I admire your clever attempt to escape, I would really prefer it if you get the hell out of my roof."_

Rick held onto Morty firmly and began to pat his back, narrowing his eyes at the instruction he'd just been issued. "Make me."

 _"Is that a request?"_ A pause. _"Look, I'm tired of playing games. By the sounds of things, you can't stay up there for much longer, so... can we negotiate? Surely you can be reasoned with."_

"You want me to bargain with YOU?" Rick bitterly growled out the words. "H-how about just giving me back my portal gun so I can leave?"

 _"You know I can't let you do that, Rick. Right now you're a scientific anomaly and I want you very much alive, and preferably safe down in the room with us while your health is of concern."_ Another pause. _"Your lab results haven't come back yet, but I want to treat you. You have no idea how important you are. To me, to HQ, to everyone."_

"I don't negotiate with assholes." Rick firmly stated. "So you do need me, huh? What do you want? You wanna tell me what's wrong with me?"

 _"We can discuss everything if you're willing to come down."_

Rick gritted his teeth hard. "You're even stupider than I thought you were. I'm not going to take that bait... go fuck yourself!" _  
_

" _Are you propositioning me? You forget who you're speaking to."_ The speaker on the other end of the reception had to laugh at that one. _"I could throw something up there to gas you with, but... but why waste a perfectly good Morty?"_

Rick reacted with a protective growl of protest and kicked his foot out at the insect before him. She immediately reacted with a short, pained squeak and cowered, flattening herself to the ground.

" _If you just did what I think you did... you better fucking not have!"_ The voice on the other end sounded furious. _"If you lay another finger on that one, I'll make you regret the day you were born!"_

"I already do!" Rick spat the words back in anger, still very much riled up over the threat towards Morty. "Come on, what else have you got? Y-you gotta do better than that!"

The communication device was silent for several moments, but when it made noise again, the speaker on the other end was much calmer this time. _"Look, this needs to stop... I don't want to do this anymore. How long do you plan to stay up there? Because no matter what you decide, you're going to lose. Let me run through all possible scenarios and outcomes for you: One - you're going to stay up there until one of you can't do it any longer, in which case you'd lose. Two - I can send the hive after you just like I did the first time, so you'd lose there, too. Three - I could sedate you, but that would be risky, as you are likely still under the effects of the first sedative... so you would lose again. It's much better to surrender now than to subject yourself and your Morty to further unnecessary trauma."_

"You want me to just give up? You want me to be quiet and do what I'm told?" Rick snorted in disgust. "You've been watching me for how long? Yet, you still haven't been paying any attention... the only way I'm getting out of here is if you give me back my portal gun. Then I'll gladly leave!"

 _"I can't do that."_ A hesitant pause. _"I broke it."_

"What...?" Rick took Morty with him as he stomped over to the open panel in the roof and crouched down beside the hole so he could yell down at the other Rick. "You did WHAT?"

"Are you deaf? I said I BROKE IT." Ricktus replied with much more volume and firmness in his voice this time as he looked up at him, the faintest hint of a smirk at the edge of his mouth, amused that his captive was getting so worked up; this was exactly what he wanted. "That's actually not a lie either... the device is currently in about six different pieces in the electronics lab. It was so unique that I had to catalog the design. While I was pulling it apart, the battery exploded. Does that make you mad, Rick? Does it? What are you going to do about it?"

"What do you think I'm going to do!?" Rick held Morty firmly in one arm as he jumped down through the hole, landing onto the table below with a loud thud. "I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"Oh, really? Bring it on!" The proud arrogant smirk grew further across his face. "Do you know how many Ricks I take down in a single day?" He narrowed his eyes as if issuing a warning to the challenge of his authority. "I beat you and I can totally do it again. Don't test me."

Rick jumped down off the table and moved towards the bunk so he could deposit Morty onto the mattress, "Stay here, buddy... you don't wanna get in the way of this bullshit." He removed his lab coat and dumped it onto the floor beside him. "You may have a doctorate, but it seems like you still need schooling." He began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

"Rick, bro, don't do this... you're not going to win." Surgeon Rick sighed at him. "This is pointless. I-I wanna go back to sleep!"

"You can leave anytime you want to, C-711," Ricktus told him firmly. "Nobody's keeping you here. You've already proven how incompetent you are."

"Fuck me, boss, Fuck me." Surgeon Rick grumbled as he retreated towards the doorway. "Fine, see if I care... but I want no part of it." He folded his arms across his chest, glowering at the pair. "You're both fuckin' idiots, and don't say I didn't try to stop you. And don't come crying to me for help afterwards!"

Neither of them were paying attention by this point.

Rick balled both hands into fists as he sidestepped the table, his eyes locked in a harsh glare with his opponent as he began to pace around him, his arms up and at the ready, keeping just out of striking distance.

"Oh my god... I can't believe you're actually serious about this!" Ricktus chuckled confidently, thoroughly amused by his captive's behavior. "I'll even let you have the first hit for free. That is, if you thi-"

Rick cut through his smug grin with a sudden sharp punch to the jaw, swiftly striking him twice more while he was still in range. "You want to know how serious I am!? Get me the fuck out of here!"

"Aaaahh, fuck! Damn it!" Ricktus stumbled backwards, cringing in pain. In another moment he was nursing the affected area of his face with a hand. "Motherfucker! I wasn't even ready yet. What's wrong with you?" He stepped away and opened his mouth so he could poke at one of his teeth. "Holy shit, I think you dislodged a molar. Ugh..."

He was distracted and wide open, which gave Rick the opportunity to retrieve one of the remaining books from the table – 'Quantum Mechanics And You'. It had a hardcover backing and was very heavy; more than solid enough for what he needed it for. A surge of anger rushed through him and with sudden force, he swung it and smacked the other Rick upside the head with it, dislodging the glasses from his face in the movement. He wasted no time crushing them underfoot.

"Oh wow, that's just sad. Do you know how many of those I have to spare?" Despite the fact that the other Rick was disappointed to lose a pair of glasses, he did his best not to outwardly show it. "Do you think I'm blind without them? That was such a dirty move... so disappointing."

"You still think I'm kidding?" Rick hurled the book at him for good measure. "Dirty move? I didn't know there were rules!"

Ricktus easily sidestepped the projectile. "I am so glad you said that," the dangerous smirk was back on his face again, and the injury he had sustained a mere moment ago was all but forgotten, "because it makes me feel so much better about doing this." The doctor rushed at him and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders as he brought his knee up to slam him hard between the legs, striking him directly in the most sensitive part of his anatomy.

Rick made a pathetic pained sound, taken completely off-guard by the move. Stars swirled across his vision as he crumpled onto the floor, curling up in a tight ball. His hands were between his legs and he was doubled over in pain; it was so unbearable that it made him heave for a moment, but he managed to hold onto the contents of his stomach.

Surgeon Rick had to avert his gaze, cringing in sympathy for the other after witnessing that one. "Holy shit... really? Just, r-really? Was that necessary? Did you want to neuter him, too?"

"You know," as Ricktus watched the other go down, he began to laugh. "That was awfully quick. One hit and you go down like a sack of shit. I'll be sure to add that to your clinical notes. Do you realize that you've just done my work for me?"

Rick made a short, frustrated sound through the pain; it was the only response he could manage.

"You see, Rick... this was actually the fourth option, and one I didn't mention: me pissing you off so much that you actually came down after me. I'm glad to see how easily it worked." He stood over his captive, the sense of smug arrogance coming over him again now that he knew he'd won. "So predictable, and guess what? You lose."

Rick didn't have a response this time.

"Ugh, don't even bother getting up. You're pathetic." He gave him a harsh nudge with his foot. "You have about twenty hours left, so see that you use the time wisely. You should have taken my assistant's advice the first time around. Give up and go to bed." He headed for the door, adding to his statement. "And just so you know... if it were up to me at any point, I would have let you die. I could have gladly killed you just now. You should be thanking me that I didn't."

"The line, boss." Surgeon Rick snorted in disgust. "You just crossed it."

Ricktus ignored him and stepped over the pathetic lump on the floor, his attention now on the hole in the ceiling. "Come, Fleur. We're leaving."

There were loud, metallic scratching noises as the bee-creature happily bounded across the maintenance cavity, popping her head out of the hole. She sprang out of it and took to the air, her wings beating furiously as she buzzed across the room, casually landing on her master's shoulder. Once there, she began to groom his hair with her long, sticky tongue.

"You need to stop losing, Rick. You have the potential to be quite valuable if you only redirected your anger elsewhere." Ricktus deactivated the air-lock and stepped out into the hallway. "We are not the enemy, and you would do well to remember that. I will not suffer your bad attitude again."

Surgeon Rick simply shook his head, knowing better to stay silent as he followed after his boss.

Rick could only glare at them from the floor as the door closed behind them, the air-lock activating once more. He was in a world of pain, but he didn't know what was worse; being physically assaulted in such a demeaning manner, or the fact that his pride had been heavily wounded by yet another defeat. Either way, he had decided that he really didn't like this particular version of himself; it just reminded him of how much of an asshole he was capable of being and it further cemented the belief that the Ricks of the multiverse were not worth knowing.

His desire to leave had just grown even stronger.

* * *

There were no two ways about it - quarantine was boring. Rick had finally given up and decided to take the advice of his captors; spending a few hours to sleep off the pain and the residual effects of the sedative wasn't going to cause any problems. He had never been a deep sleeper to begin with and was woken again by the sound of his door opening. He ignored it. When he picked up the scent of food, he ignored that, too.

Morty was pulling on his hair again, reminding him that he was hungry. Rick stayed down and tolerated it; there was no way he was about to make the kid stop. As far as he was concerned, Morty was allowed to do whatever he wanted to him, so long as it kept him happy.

"Pity you're not big enough to go get it yourself..." Rick grumbled, though there was no negativity in his tone. He reached up to poke Morty in the chest with an index finger, harmlessly pushing the little boy over. "You also still suck at balance. Grow up faster, huh?"

Morty made loud, gleeful nonsense sounds as he collapsed onto the bed. He got to his feet again and resumed pulling on his grandfather's hair, wanting to make a game out of it.

Rick decided to sit up at this point; Morty didn't know his limitations and it was starting to hurt. When he felt the little demanding tugs at the sleeves of his shirt, he finally conceded and moved off the bunk entirely. "Fine, you win."

He looked up, immediately disappointed by what he saw above him. It seemed that the hive had been busy during his time asleep; the roofing panels above were now glued up with the same bioluminescent, green substance that had been used to patch up the hallway. Rick wasn't sure if it was worth another shot at attempting an escape, but a quick look around the room didn't offer any other viable options. It seemed that there was no conceivable way out of the box now; he would just have to wait the time out and leave at the earliest opportunity.

"Phh..." He hadn't even been awake five minutes and he was already bored out of his mind. The table didn't offer much in the way of entertainment either; the books that had been laid out and scattered across the floor were of subjects he knew inside and out. He picked up the tray of food and poked at it with his finger - pancakes, scrambled eggs, and some kind of unidentifiable cereal that had already gone soggy in the milk: obviously breakfast time on the ship. "You want to learn independence, Morty? Here, go knock yourself out." He set the tray down on the ground and moved away to begin tidying up the mess of books nearby, if only for something to keep himself occupied with.

Morty practically launched himself off the bed, his mind only on one thing as he hit the floor. In another moment, he was essentially sitting on top of the plate itself and grabbed entire handfuls to shove into his mouth, making an absolute mess of himself; he didn't care in the slightest.

Rick was amused. He hadn't been particularly hungry due to the earlier incident, but he had to admit that giving up his breakfast for the sight before him was totally worth it. "Wow, and to think all this time I've been feeding you myself." He retrieved the screws from the floor and stuffed them into his pants pocket, figuring that Morty was probably still young enough to be at risk of swallowing them. "You lazy piece of shit."

Morty looked up at him, responding only with a loud burp.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Rick shook his head as he stacked the remaining books back up onto the table.

It was then that something in the corner of the room had caught his attention - an acoustic guitar was just lying there, propped up against the wall. It was yet another contrived placement perhaps, but it was still interesting enough for him to move over to investigate. Once he had picked it up, he allowed his fingers to idly play across the strings as he attempted to work out how out of tune it was; an untuned guitar was a crime and even if it wasn't his, he would be sure to set it right again. He carried it back over to the bunk so he could adjust the tuning keys until it sounded far more acceptable. He had no real motivation to properly play with it though, and set the instrument back down on the floor afterwards.

He lay back down on the bunk, his attention on the ceiling. He had nothing left to keep his mind distracted; there was nothing he could run from and there was nothing to fight. He was utterly bored, and worse – he was alone with his grandson and his thoughts.

At least one of them was happy.

* * *

Ricktus had time to reflect on his actions while he was away on shift. He was usually a diligent-and-focused worker, but he found himself distracted this time around; it wasn't often that one of the Ricks assigned to him to monitor actually managed to survive. He really hadn't meant to lose his composure, but his authority had been challenged and he had taken it as an insult. Like most of the Ricks he knew of and had to deal with, he was proud, egotistical, and prone to allowing anger to overtake his better judgment. He knew he had taken it too far this time and his assistant had made a point of telling him so. He had no idea how to come back from this one.

As he stood at the doorway to his captive's room, he found himself hesitant as his hand hovered over the code panel beside the door. However, regardless of his feelings on the subject, he knew he had to do something; he needed this one alive and on friendly terms. He pushed through his own thoughts and punched in the door code, stepping in through the open doorway afterwards.

What he saw in the room ahead of him was fairly predictable. Morty was sitting on the floor with the box of toys that had been planted in the room; the little boy had pulled them all out and made a mess, and now he was chewing on the ear of a stuffed animal he had found. When he saw the stranger, he made a sharp cry of alarm and got to his feet, making a beeline for the bunk. He used his little arms to haul himself up onto the mattress and he retreated towards the safety of his grandfather, clumsily bumping into his side to seek his protection.

Meanwhile, Rick didn't even acknowledge the intruder; he was sitting cross-legged on the far side of the bunk with his forehead leaning against the glass as he idly stared out the window. He wasn't paying any particular attention to the scenery outside or to anything else for that matter; he was completely lost in thought. He didn't seem to notice when Morty bumped into him.

Ricktus took a singular cautious step forwards and initially stood there, completely silent as his attention was glued to the other male. He knew full-well that his captive could react in any number of ways, though when nothing happened at all, he couldn't help but find the observation concerning - was he giving up?

"It's a pretty decent view out there, isn't it?" He made an attempt at sounding friendly, though even he knew how pathetic it was. He locked his fingers together in his awkwardness and began to twaddle his thumbs together; he'd never been particularly good with meaningful conversations or apologies, but now he found himself stuck in the likelihood of having to do both. "I was hoping that we could talk."

Rick ignored him completely and continued to stare out the window.

Ricktus took three more tentative steps across the room towards the pair, his attention on the mess nearby his feet, momentarily eyeing off the tray of food which still lay there. "You didn't eat that. Is food a problem for you, or did I receive bad intel on your preferences?"

Rick didn't reply.

"Fine, that's not why I'm here. I'll just get to the point... my assistant says you wanted to speak with me, so here I am." Ricktus tried again as he pulled up a chair to sit down. "It seems that without thinking, I may have gone too far. I was actually hoping to get you onside before you have clearance to leave."

Rick made a loud, disgusted snort at the suggestion.

"You know, Rick..." Ricktus sighed in frustration. "Usually a conversation involves both sides, you know, actually talking. I am about to give you the opportunity to ask whatever you want within reason, and actually get a useful answer this time I might add, and all you're going to do is sit there and make noises at me? You're going to be out of here before you know it. Stop moping."

"I'm not moping, you are." Rick grumbled back at him.

"Look, I understand where you're coming from," Ricktus continued, figuring that getting any kind of response at this point was a good start. "You didn't sign up for any of this. Fair point, what I did was wrong. I admit that I acted irrationally, especially earlier this morning. I haven't exactly been fair either. Considering everything that has been taken away from you, I suppose it was only predictable that you would fight for what little freedom you had. But don't think I'm about to apologize for keeping you here, because the end always justifies the means."

"I've already heard that line..." Rick turned his head just enough so he could glare at him from his peripheral vision. "I-is that what you keep telling yourselves? Sounds like a pretty shitty excuse to do whatever the fuck you want."

"It's the truth," Ricktus huffed angrily, finding himself already annoyed by his dimensional counterpart's attitude. "Had we not interfered when we did, you'd be dead by now and your Morty would likely have been reassigned to another Rick. So, again, you're welcome."

Rick flattened his brow, looking as unimpressed as he could muster. "You kicked me in the balls."

"Why yes, yes I did..." There was a mild twinge of regret in the reply. "Does it still hurt? How are you now?"

"Why don't you just knock me out again and find out for yourself?" Rick's tone was suddenly harsh and acidic. "Was that how you planned to get me onside? How in the FUCK did you ever think that would work, ever? What kind of crazy backwards universe do you even come from?!"

Ricktus sighed in exasperation; he knew that it was well-deserved criticism, but he still didn't much like being on the receiving end. "Yes, I know. It wasn't intentional, but you dragged it out of me. For that much at least, I apologize. I knew it was the point that I had probably taken things too far."

"Yeah, yeah... no fucking kidding, huh?" Rick growled at him. "Dipshit. Go fuck yourself!"

"I suppose that's deserved, but..." He gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Look, like all things, this situation is only temporary. I'll send you back on your way when we're done and you'll have forgotten all about this within the week."

"Phh... do you know how much can change within the space of a week? I never asked for any of this." Rick became strangely quiet. "None of this shit was supposed to happen."

"We often find ourselves in situations we didn't plan for, but all we can do is move through them accordingly. You've done a pretty good job of that so far." Ricktus pulled a small palmtop computer out of his top pocket and began typing on the screen, adding to the data he had already collected on his current subject. "I understand that you are still processing your losses. There is a lot to work through and I am sure that pulling you out here has only added to your mental anguish. But rest assured, you're safer here than you could be anywhere else. What you need right now is to give yourself some time to heal."

"Phh, time? What a positively cliché statement. It doesn't even matter, the universe itself is pointless anyway." The words came out bitterly. "So why are you really here? I'm going to sit here and wait out the time like you asked me to. I-isn't that what you wanted? You've already won, so what else could you possibly want from me? Did you come here just to gloat about it?" Rick made a soft growl, baring his teeth at the other as he spoke again. "Fuck you!"

"I don't always get what I want," Ricktus firmly told him, "and in this case, I don't believe I've won. I'm actually concerned for your mental state right now. You were pacing and agitated while we were on shift, and I know that because I've already checked the surveillance."

"Of course you did." Rick narrowed his eyes. "You creepy stalker. You're fucking disgusting!"

"Are you done?" Despite the question, Ricktus was prepared to sit there and take it; if it helped Rick to work out some of his pent-up anger, then it was probably worth the abuse.

"I don't know," Rick snorted, returning his attention back outside the window. "I'll let you know depending on how I feel... are you done being an asshole?"

"For the time being, yes." The doctor sat up properly in the chair, suddenly curious. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I don't want to be here?" Rick shifted in his posture, properly turning around to face the other Rick now. Despite his foul mood, his curiosity had risen just enough that he was interested in probing the other with questions. "Neither of you have given me a straightforward answer yet. What the hell do you think is supposed to be wrong with me?"

Ricktus couldn't help but feel pleased; it seemed he might have a chance at turning this one around after all. "Of course," he set the small handheld computer down onto the table and began typing much faster with both hands. "I can bring up any data you need. Where do you want me to begin?"

"I don't know... anywhere?" Rick shrugged. "Because I feel just fine. I was half-tempted to call bullshit on it, but you keep asking, so..."

Ricktus began to read aloud from the file once he had accessed it. "Clinical notes for Rick Sanchez B-526: Plasma-radiation poisoning - you should be dead. Attempted suicide - if your gun had any charge in it, you would be dead. Moderate hypothermia - while I'm glad you recovered, when something like that is complicated with plasma-radiation poisoning... you should be dead."

"What the hell...?" The scientist didn't like what he was hearing, but only one of those things had stuck in his mind.

"Lesser complaints that need follow-up," the other continued reading, "28 sutures with possible risk of infection. Underweight – surely I don't need to explain this one? By all that is known to medical science, you should be dead." He finally looked up from the datapad, seeming impressed. "You're a scientific anomaly, Rick. I simply can't work out how you've managed to survive this long, and the first of your biopsies came back completely clear. You appear to be completely asymptomatic. While I'm sure that's great news to you, it doesn't make any sense. I'm beginning to wonder if you're invincible, or if you're simply too stubborn to die."

"Wait, wait, back the fuck up!" Rick snapped at him. "Plasma-radiation poisoning? What makes you think I have that?"

"You're kidding, right?" Ricktus was staring incredulously at him now, trying to read his expression for any indication of a joke. When he did not find it, he seemed even more confused. "Is this something your mind has blocked out? I mean, I understand that memory is painful and it's a subject that I wanted to approach respectfully, bu-"

"I'm not a precious snowflake." Rick huffed at the notion, insulted. "Y-you don't need to tiptoe around me like I'm going to break. Now shut up and get back to it. Is that what this is all about? Is that why you dragged me all the way out here?"

"Well, not entirely, but..." The doctor began to fidget with the small electronic device, seeming a little annoyed that he even had to bother explaining it. "You were exposed to over 12,000 lethal measures of plasma radiation. That was further complicated by shrapnel damage with no antiseptic, so you were risking blood poisoning as well. Approximately 48 hours after exposure, you started exhibiting all the classic hallmark symptoms that one would expect to see from a lethal dose. Your Morty went down faster than you did, which is to be expected because his biomass is smaller, but," he shrugged, "I honestly thought we were going to lose you, so I had to do something earlier than I had originally anticipated. The non-interference code has been lapsing for some time and there was no harm in it, so..."

"So you fucked with me." Rick finished the rest of the statement as he narrowed his eyes in disapproval. "You were the one who left that stuff under my desk, weren't you? What the hell did you do to me?"

"Nothing bad, I assure you." Ricktus scowled back at him. "Do you realize how much of an ungrateful shit you sound like right now? I knew it would fuck with your mind, but your Morty would have been so much worse off without that care package. And just think, where would you have been without it? The alternative would have been so much worse, Rick. Are you beginning to understand yet?"

"Is that how you're going to try and spin it?" Rick gritted his teeth, feeling his anger rising. "What did you do to me?!"

Ricktus sighed at him; as much as he wanted to stand his ground, he knew that if one of them lost it at this point, the conversation would likely devolve into another fight. Instead, he reached into the second pocket of his coat and pulled out a glass ampule containing a luminous-pink, syrupy solution and held it up to the light so he could show it off. "It's an injectable curative of my own invention. I'm not going to tell you what's in it because it's a trade secret, but it contains, uh... you'd find it boring. But it's the whole reason that HQ wanted me in the first place, and all I did was use it on you while you were sleeping. I did the same thing to your Morty. You were both so sick that neither of you even noticed I was there."

"You used that crap on my grandson without telling me!?" Rick was practically yelling at him now.

"Oh, would you relax? Look at him... he's fine." Ricktus dropped the glass bulb onto the table and folded his arms across his chest, annoyed. "Don't expect me to apologize for that either, I saved your lives. And Rick, I have to say, for somebody who has plasma-radiation poisoning, you are carrying yourself exceedingly well. Either that or my serum concoction is good shit. That's part of what makes me so great."

"Ugh... I'm gonna stop you there, because you're an idiot." Rick moved off the bed, taking a moment to stretch once he was on his feet. "First of all, I wasn't sick because of that. We got a stupidly simple, Earth stomach bug because somebody likes to put everything in his mouth." He shot Morty a momentary grumpy glare. "Besides, it was gone again within 24 hours. It was probably just... regular old norovirus, o-or something like that. Secondly... What? No! What makes you think that the Galactic Federation destroys planets with plasma radiation?"

"They... they don't?" Ricktus was watching him intently now, paying very close attention to what he was saying.

"There is radiation involved, but it's only heat-based, and the reason the surface of Earth turned to glass was because of the abundance of silicon in the planet's crust. That same process would actually happen to most planets... t-that aren't gaseous, at least." Rick was getting worked up just thinking about it and began pacing back and forth across the room. "Holy shit, don't you know ANYTHING about this? The Galactic Federation are a bunch of intergalactic conquerors among other things. They either force planets into submitting to their stupid regime or they wipe out the natural biosphere. Then they just... move back in and terraform the planet for their own kind. That's how their numbers are able to grow so big, they're basically space-faring locusts. How do you not know about this? I thought it was common knowledge."

"Are you sure?"

"I've seen them destroy a planet... twice now. I know how the rest works." Rick stopped in front of the closed door then turned around, pacing back in the other direction. "Ask yourself this instead – how in the everloving FUCK could nuking a planet with more than 10,000 years of unlivable radiation possibly benefit them? I mean they're stupid, but they're not THAT stupid. This isn't fucking Chernobyl!"

"Are... are you positively certain about this?" Ricktus began fumbling with his handheld computer device, mentally kicking himself when he realized that he had forgotten to record the conversation. "Would you be able to confirm it as fact?"

Rick stared hard at him and stopped dead in his tracks, positively wild-eyed and livid at what he was hearing. "Are you fucking serious!?" He snapped. "You STILL need proof after all this time!? Why don't you go back to my home planet and see the remaining evidence for yourself!?"

"Yeah, yeah, it was a stupid question..." Ricktus muttered, shaking his head. "Look, in all seriousness, this is seriously important information. Would you be interested in documenting everything you know? This was one of the things the Council wanted you alive for." He stood up, and his expression was dead serious as he looked back at the other. "If you give them your intel, it would be of great benefit to all of us. You might not be able to do anything about your own world or bring it back, but the knowledge you provide could go on to benefit Ricks in countless other dimensions."

"Yeah, yeah, sure... whatever." Rick dismissively waved a hand at him, not seeming to care. "What do I get for doing that?"

"Something could be arranged, I'm very much certain of that." Ricktus reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, grinning at him, seeming very enthusiastic all of a sudden. "You have no idea how valuable you are, but I'm sure you would receive very noticeable commendations and massive perks among the members of the Citadel. Both myself and my assistant are only silvers. Shit like that would bump you straight up to gold."

Rick smacked his hand away and narrowed his eyes, becoming suspicious all over again. "Citadel? Council? HQ? What the fuck are you talking about? Who do you work for?"

"Oh, I could tell you, but wouldn't it be so much more interesting to just show you?" Ricktus took two steps back from him, heading for the door. "If you live long enough to be released, you'll get to see everything. I'll make sure of it."

Rick growled at him. "Do you have any idea how contradictory you're being? Don't think I've forgotten what you said earlier. You said you wanted to kill me. Now I'm important? Make up your damn mind!"

"Ah, well..." Ricktus awkwardly scratched the side of his head. "At one point, yes, I did want to kill you. But I've since decided otherwise. How fortuitous for your sake, hmm?"

"Fuck you." It was more of a half-assed response this time.

"Deserved, but don't worry about it." The doctor clapped his hands together suddenly. "Well, I know you've enjoyed talking to me because I'm just that great, but your new information has just given me about a dozen more hours of paperwork. On top of that, there's not a minute that goes by where something doesn't need to be done around this stupid piece of shit. I'll release you when your time is up, or after I've sourced another battery for your portal gun. Whichever comes first."

"So that part wasn't a lie, huh?" Rick kicked one of Morty's toys aside as he headed back towards the bunk. "I spent such a long time on the design... what a waste of effort. I should have expected it, I suppose... everything else is so ridiculously fucked up, why not that, too?" He flopped down face-first onto the bed, suddenly seeming as deflated as he'd been the moment the other Rick had walked into the room in the first place.

"Relax, Rick. You'll get it back in good time." Ricktus raised an eyebrow at his sudden change of mood. "I suppose now would be a good time to mention that I was the one who likely caused the damage to your battery in the first place. When you left the parts unguarded, I took the opportunity to rig the battery up so I could send communications to the display module. You really need to keep a better eye on your shit... you practically left me an open invitation to tamper with your portal gun."

"You're an asshole..." Rick muttered into the pillow.

"Yes, I know, thanks for noticing. I get that a lot." Ricktus grinned back at him, seeming pleased with the statement. "But if it's going to teach you to never leave it behind again, then so be it."

"Hrmph..." Rick wanted to complain about it, but he'd already said far too much on the subject and didn't want to repeat himself. "When you're ready to give it back, there's people back in my dimension who need to know I'm still alive."

Ricktus casually punched in the door code, not bothering to look up this time. "Must be nice to have friends who care about you."

"I wouldn't go that far..." Rick lifted his head up again as he heard the air-lock deactivate, watching the other step through the doorway. "Why are you doing all of this? I'm not sure I understand your intentions. It's... i-it's like you're trying to be a dick and not at the same time. What's your endgame?"

"Contrary to popular belief... not all Ricks are assholes to each other." The doctor smirked back at him. He knew how this Rick's mind worked, and now he fully intended to prey on his curiosity. "If you're not as sick as I thought you were, then you'll get to see what I mean in good time." He walked off down the corridor, seeming particularly pleased with himself.

Rick was left to stare at the door as it closed again, wondering what that last statement could have possibly meant. He quickly concluded that he had no idea.


	15. An Attempt At Rickonciliation

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** If I could steal this IP and claim it for myself, I totally would. But Rick and Morty doesn't belong to me, and certainly not in this reality.

 **NOTE:** Stuff happens in dis one broh. Have a massive fluff chapter and a D &M.

* * *

 _Caged, hold so tight until your knuckles show  
_ _Escape as far away as you could ever know  
_ _You sink them all down  
_ _Watch them float up  
_ _'til the wheel has spun around_

 _You will be bound by what you are_

 _\- Passenger - Powderfinger_

* * *

 **Chapter 15 – An Attempt At Rickonciliation  
**

 **November 26th, 9:04pm Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space** **  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316  
**

* * *

The sounds of high-pitched screams cut through the quiet of the room and the distant thrum of ship engines; two opponents were currently engaged in a battle of will.

Approximately five minutes ago, Rick had decided that Morty was filthy enough to warrant being washed. While the little boy had made a good effort of demolishing most of his grandfather's breakfast, he had also done a rather spectacular job of managing to wear half of it in the process. He had pancake crumbs and dried cereal flakes through his hair and the front of his shirt and sleeves were heavily caked with scrambled-egg stains.

That had been hours ago. Rick had let it go initially, as Morty seemed more interested in playing with toys and exploring the small room. Although he didn't want to deny him his happiness, now he was starting to smell and it bothered him. Unbeknownst to Rick, Morty hated anything to do with water and to this point others had done the job of bathing him instead. He had fought through those occasions as well, but Rick hadn't been present for them to learn otherwise.

Morty was still a baby in many aspects, but he was by no means stupid. When he first heard the sound of running shower water, he ignored it and continued playing with the toys on the floor. However, when his grandfather came for him, his little mind was able to put two and two together and he darted under the table just out of reach, buying himself at least 30 seconds of time.

"Get out from under there, Morty! You can't avoid it forever, you little piece of shit." Rick scolded him, though he did his best to contain his temper; he didn't trust himself not to lose it again. "Stop fucking around and wasting my time!"

"Mm-mm... n..." Morty looked back up him, his brows knitted in hard concentration as he struggled with the attempt to pronounce the sounds correctly. "Nn... n-no!"

Rick raised both eyebrows, genuinely surprised; he had just witnessed the most complete word Morty had ever spoken in his short life. "W-what did you just say to me?"

Morty was spurred on by the question and the desire to make himself heard. "N... N-NO!" He said it with much more volume this time, having learned that most of his family yelled when they wanted their way.

Rick couldn't believe what he was hearing - his only grandson, his last-living blood relative, the slobbering meat sack that never did what he was told, who couldn't follow instructions, or pay attention to anything for more than five seconds was actually talking to him, and with some degree of genuine clarity. Rick was practically beaming with pride. A wide, ridiculous grin came over the older man's face and he crouched down next to his grandson, reaching out to affectionately ruffle his hair to praise him for what he had just done.

"Hey, that was really good!" His elation was cut short as his fingers got stuck in the clumps of dried cereal in the young boy's hair, and he remembered why they were there. "Great job, little buddy. You have no idea how proud I am of you right now," the grin on his face faded and his tone was firm again, "but nobody tells me 'no', especially when they're only two feet tall." He snatched at the collar of the little boy's shirt and pulled on it. "You're not getting out of this!"

Morty made a loud yelp in protest and began flailing. He managed to struggle his way out of the shirt he had been wearing and got to his feet, screaming once more as he ran out from under the table, retreating to the bunk bed. In another moment, he had clambered up onto it and backed up against the window, staring at Rick, wide-eyed and fearful.

Rick got to his feet again, raising an eyebrow at the behavior. "I don't get you... you survived the goddamn apocalypse, b-but you're afraid of the shower?" He stood there, giving them both some time to calm down again. "Sorry Morty, but you can't win this one. How bad would I look if I let you stay like that? You're disgusting." He slowly moved towards the bed again, stopping directly in front of it.

Morty responded with another loud, upset sound as if pleading for him to not come any closer, his back pressed hard up against the glass.

Rick's anger dissipated as he figured that there had to be more to this than what he was observing; such a harsh reaction was likely a result of a negative experience. Had he suffered some kind of trauma? The scientist quickly concluded it probable, especially considering some of the more recent behaviors he had seen him exhibiting. He found himself wishing that Morty could just tell him the reason behind it all, but he was still far too young.

He decided that trying a different approach might work out better – patience.

As Rick sat down on the edge of the bed, he patted the space next to him. "Come on, Morty. Don't be like that..." His tone was far more gentle this time. "Is it really that bad for you?" The edge of his mouth twisted into an uncomfortable frown at his next thought. "Would it make you feel better if I went in there with you?" As he cast an awkward glance back in the direction of the shower, the thought came to mind that his suggestion happened all the time; humans had been bathing with their offspring for as long as the species itself had existed.

It still didn't stop it from being a little weird.

With a small defeated sigh, Rick mentally resolved himself to the fact that it was just something he'd have to do; he would do anything for Morty, including pushing through his own uncomfortable feelings if he had to demonstrate that there was nothing to be afraid of. "It'll be fine, you'll see. You've gotta start trusting me more, kid." He took off his lab coat and shirt, dumping them on the floor next to his feet. "Everything I've done to this point has been for your benefit... a-and sometimes to my detriment." Only after removing his pants did he realize how warm the room actually was.

He heard slow, hesitant footfalls across the surface of the bed, but he dared not move in case it would make the other change his mind. When he felt the tiny pair of hands lightly pushing onto his back, he couldn't help but smirk a little; he'd just won. "There you go, I was hoping you'd come around. Aren't things so much easier when you just do what you're told?"

Morty responded with a small, pathetic, squeaking sound in the back of his throat.

Rick was quiet this time as he reached around behind him to gently pull the little boy into his lap; there was little point in pushing the issue anymore. The whole situation already seemed too familiar - it reminded him of his own non-compliance with the other Ricks and of the fact that his stubbornness was one of the major reasons he was stuck here. As he looked down at Morty, he began wondering if he would grow up to be as strong willed as he was; Beth had been that way and it had been developing in Summer as well. The more and more he observed Morty's behavior, the more he saw reflections of his own personality and it was actually starting to concern him. He wondered what kind of things he was imparting onto the little boy and how the hell he was supposed to raise such an innocent young life without totally screwing him up as bad as he was himself.

He pushed the thoughts out of his mind again when they began to sting; he didn't want to think about it or the rest of his family.

After stripping Morty of all his clothes, he added them to the pile on the floor and ignored the increasing volume of cries as he carried him into the bathroom. By the time he was standing in front of the shower recess, the little boy had escalated the protest to full-blown wailing at the top of his lungs.

"Holy shit..." Rick gritted his teeth as his eardrums were painfully assaulted, the sound being made even worse by the fact it was echoing off the walls. "You're really going for it there, aren't ya?" He simply stood there and firmly held onto his grandson, patiently waiting for the opportunity to continue. "OK, come on. That's enough."

Morty vaguely understood the gist of the instruction but still wasn't prepared to give up; this strategy wasn't working out for him, so he tried another. He put his head down and buried his face into his grandfather's shoulder, sobbing right next to his ear. He began to babble strings of upset nonsense at him in-between sobs, his body trembling with fear.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you, buddy... it sucks." Rick patted him on the back as he spoke to him in the most gentle tone he could manage while still trying to remain firm. "But you have to deal with this at some point. You're not going to be little forever. People do this every day, at least, they're supposed to. You know that, right?" He felt bad for the fact that he had to force this onto the youngster, but there was no way he was going to back down now, not while they were this close. "Whatever happened to being brave?"

With one last sobbing heave, Morty finally conceded and was silent again.

"Hah, there you go." Rick simply stood there and cradled him in one arm as he adjusted the shower taps to a more acceptable heat setting. "Was that so bad?" He tucked his thumb into the waistband of his underpants and let them drop to the floor as he finally stepped into the running shower.

In that moment, something switched off in Morty like a lightbulb, and his entire line of objection was completely forgotten as quickly as the warm water splashed down over his back.

"See, what did I tell you?" Rick couldn't help himself. "I told you so. I have plenty more of those where that came from, too. Grandpa dispenses good advice, and don't you forget it." He wasted no time as he started what needed to be done; actually washing Morty turned out to be easier than he had first thought - it wasn't a difficult feat to balance the young boy in one arm and access the soap dispenser on the wall with the other.

In another five minutes, the entire ordeal was over and done with. Morty had become completely relaxed and dreamily content along the way and Rick was satisfied with the result. He rewarded the behavior with three short pats on the back, deciding to just stay there a little longer in an effort to reinforce the positive experience. He had to admit that while standing completely naked in the shower with somebody related to him was still unnerving, but being there in the warmth and closeness of each other's company was pleasant. Having the little kid sleep on his chest had been good in itself, but the direct skin-to-skin contact was even better than that. For one rare moment, he felt happier than he had been in a long time. Morty's presence would never be able to fully erase the minefield of pain that he kept avoiding every time it resurfaced, but he definitely made it a lot more bearable. It also reminded him of how inextricably bound they were by now.

He was brought back to reality when Morty began poking at his bare chest, intrigued by the lighter patches of scarring across his collarbone and sternum.

"Ah, that's a plasma burn. R-reeeeally old, but it probably happened not too long after I got into my first skirmish with the bureaucrats." Rick's explanation was calm and casual. "The bastard got a lucky shot in... the electrical discharge was strong enough to stop my heart, but the people of Bird World know CPR, which is fortunate for you, because neither of us would be here if they didn't." He lightly tapped the little boy on the end of his nose. "So, word of advice here, Morty - try to avoid getting shot if you can. Plasma rounds cauterize, but the burns they leave behind are particularly painful."

Morty's reply was soft nonsense as he snuggled into the crook of his grandfather's neck; he was actually starting to fall asleep.

Rick smirked in amusement. "Do you think you could maybe remember this the next time you wanna start throwing a temper tantrum about it? I'm glad you got over it, but I don't wanna see it again. Got that?"

Morty had no response for him this time, other than a tiny yawn.

Rick would never admit any such feelings out loud, but even he had to concede how cute Morty was being. "OK, little buddy, I can see you're done. There's nothing left to do here anyway... you're all set." He turned the shower off again and gently set the little boy down onto the floor beside him. "Though if you could, try not to bitch so much next time, alright? It wasn't a big deal, was it? No." After retrieving a fresh towel from the rack, he dropped it over Morty and hastily retrieved the second so he could cover up his nakedness. However, the moment he had secured the towel in place around his waist, Morty had scooted out from under his own and retreated into the room.

Rick raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift in behavior. "Huh, so much for that... were you gonna nap or not? Make up your damn mind, Morty. A-at least dry off, you sneaky little shit!"

Morty ignored him completely - he was having far more fun running around the table, completely stark naked.

Rick huffed at him. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" He stepped out of the room and began chasing him with the towel, unable to hide the frustration in his voice. "Are you nuts? There's cameras watching us, and right now you're giving them a pretty damn good show of your ass. Are you a streaker, Morty? No, no you're not!"

Morty began his screaming tirade all over again, though this time it was simply because he was having fun. The fact that Rick was chasing him now only added to his delight; it was a great game to run away from him.

"Goddamn it, Morty! G-get back here!"

It seemed that round two had begun.

* * *

After the near-impossible task of drying off and dressing a little boy who didn't know the meaning of staying still, Rick had made some interesting observations; the table in the room had been cleared and there was a green light over the door. There was also another set of freshly laundered clothes waiting for him on the bed, but he had neither seen nor heard anyone come in. He found his attention back on the ceiling and was annoyed that he still hadn't located any of the observation cameras.

"I know you're stalking me, but holy shit, guys. This is just getting weird." He folded his arms across his chest as he spoke to the unseen forces that might be watching him. "You still haven't lulled me into a false sense of security either. You're going to have to try a lot harder than that." With a disapproving snort, he disappeared into the bathroom so he could finish drying off and get dressed. Once done, he was at the door, his attention back on the light overhead – was it meant to be a mistake or not?

Only one way to find out.

With a casual reach across to access the keypad on the wall beside the door-frame, the air-lock gave a hydraulic hiss as it released the locking pins and the door casually swung open before him.

"Huh, weird." Rick raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. A quick peek into the hallway revealed a plain cardboard box sitting just outside the doorway; it was simply too big to miss. He wasted no time grabbing one of the corners to haul it inside.

Morty had been watching the scene with great interest and was already curious enough to come over and check it out. A box was just like any other box to him; something fun that he could get into. Once his little hands were on it, he began trying to push it over.

"Stop that, Morty. This one is mine." Rick firmly planted one hand on the top. "Go trash your own shit." Despite his annoyance, he was as curious as his grandson was. Both brows were raised as he tore off the letter stuck to the lid of the box. He opened it up and began to read:

" _Rick B-526,_

 _I am still not certain what kind of timetable your body operates on but it is likely that nobody else will be here when your sleeping pattern tells you it is morning. In our absence, this care package should keep you entertained. It has been provided in preparation for your eventual release.  
_

 _I am satisfied that your immune system is still somewhat functional so I am giving you clearance to move into the larger sections of the ship. Among the more basic essentials included, you will find a small wristband which contains an RFID chip. This will grant you access to areas of the ship where the oxygenated atmosphere still exists. Wear it on your wrist or your ankle, whichever you feel makes you look less ridiculous. Enclosed is a small datapad - it belongs to you now so do whatever you want with it. Talking AI software has been installed so you can pester it with further queries.  
_

 _You will find the documentation regarding your first three test results. I am sure that you will find them most interesting and I have highlighted the concerning data for your perusal. Lastly, you will find a non-functional portal gun replica at the bottom of the box. It is time that it was returned to its owner. Please see that it finds him._

 _\- R_

 _PS: I shouldn't even need to tell you this but keep the harmful items out of your Morty's reach. Don't mess around with my terminals. Don't touch the shit on my desk. Do NOT provoke the hive. And try not to do anything stupid until our return."_

Rick narrowed his eyes at the last part; he could only imagine what was meant by it but could wager a few educated guesses. There was a three-page pathology report stapled to the note, but he wasn't interested in reading it for now; the box was far more interesting. He stuffed the papers into his top lab-coat pocket and dragged the box the rest of the way across the room so he could tear the lid off and distribute the contents onto the table.

The first thing he pulled out was a first-aid kit and pill bottles filled with over-the-counter remedies – boring. Next he found several small personal-care items, including an ordinary shaving razor, a washcloth and soap - even more boring. More items came out of the box and were dumped on the table after that, including children's cough syrup, a stupid brightly colored sippy cup, and another can of powdered formula.

As Rick determined what to make of the stash he had so far, he quickly concluded that there was no probable reason why the note would lie about having intent to release him. While the care-package contents certainly seemed to back up the claim, he still didn't understand why they would put so much effort into it. With a small shrug of his shoulders, he took a page from Morty's book and upended the whole box onto the floor.

"How was this supposed to keep me entertained?" Rick kicked the mess he had just made, finding nothing other than more clothing and the items mentioned in the note.

He bent down to retrieve the handheld computer device from the pile, then clipped the RFID band onto his left wrist; it was easy enough to cover with the cuff of his shirt sleeve. "Come on, Morty, let's get out of here. We have nothing better to do and I'm bored." He paused in thought. "O-on second thought, where's my whiskey?"

Morty completely ignored his grandfather as he leaped into the pile of clothes and promptly tried to bury himself under them.

"You're getting really predictable over there, buddy." Rick rolled his eyes as he turned away to search for the bottle he had been given earlier; he never liked to be anywhere without alcohol for too long and he was already sinking into a sour mood. "Is this going to become a regular thing with you? Does doing the opposite of what Grandpa says make you happy?"

Morty emerged from the pile with his toy portal gun in one hand, a hip flask in the other. He immediately lobbed both items across the room and clumsily tumbled backwards onto the clothes with a loud giggle.

Rick's attention was attracted by the loud clattering noise and he was amused; Morty had done a better job at searching through the remainder of the stuff than he had. "Hey, nice find there. Not so useless anymore, are you?" He stuffed the handheld computer into his pocket and moved back over to pick him up. "Nah. You're still a piece of shit."

* * *

"Hurry up, Morty!" Rick's instruction was highly impatient. Now that his mind was no longer occupied with self-preservation, curiosity had taken over and all he wanted to do was learn more about the ship; it had been eating at his mind since arriving. At the very least he figured it would be worthwhile to educate himself on the layout just in case he needed to make a run for it.

As he lead the way through the labyrinth of honeycomb-shaped corridors, he knew that his pace was obviously too fast for the little boy because he had to keep slowing down or stopping to allow him to catch up. At first Rick had carried him along, but Morty had insisted on walking and the only reason he had obliged him was because it kept him quiet.

"Goddamnit, kiddo... why do you have to be so difficult?" Rick growled at him. He really didn't mean to sound so harsh, but he had already slipped into a foul mood and not even the fact he had a new hip flask full of alcohol was enough to pick him back up.

Morty could sense his grandfather's ire and cautiously crept up behind him, his little hands finding the tails of his lab coat. He tugged at the fabric and gave him a pathetic whimper; he didn't understand.

Rick sighed, and it was enough of a reminder to keep his temper in check. "Fine, just..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, giving himself a moment to calm down. "I want to know where I am as much as you do. Try to keep up, OK?" He pried the lab coat out of the little boy's fingers and kept going.

Although he wasn't quite sure which direction to take, the handheld computer kept him informed by displaying map information. If it weren't apparent that the ship was in a state of disrepair before, it certainly was now - some of the patch-up jobs covered particularly grievous wounds. He discovered an entire section that detoured into what was little more than a chewed-out tunnel of solidified wax and decided it was best avoided.

"Computer, uh..." Rick wasn't sure what to call it, but figured that now was as good as any time to test its capabilities. "What are the most commonly visited areas of this dump? I'm not familiar with the surroundings and need a quick rundown. Gimme somewhere to go."

"Working," the computer screen went black before displaying a selection of green-hued maps. "The most frequently trafficked areas are: Barracks. Classified. Recreational lounge. Library. Zero gravity chamber. Chemical analysis lab. Electronics lab."

"All of those sound interesting," Rick lied, deciding to plow straight into what he had wanted to know in the first place. "Now give me the least-visited areas of the ship. I wanna know why it's so run down."

"That is beyond your current level of authorization." The computer's emotionless voice replied. "Classified."

"What do you mean 'classified'?!" Rick thumped the side of the device, his anger rising. "Just give me a map of the whole thing, I'll go digging myself!"

As the new display shimmered across the screen, Rick was smug; the computer AI was dumb and he was confident that he'd get his answer one way or another. He raised an eyebrow as the new map appeared, and then he noticed that the overall shape of the vessel was very phallic in design. "Well then, I guess they weren't kidding... it really does look like a green boner. Somebody's overcompensating."

He shrugged it off and continued traveling in silence.

Using only the map as a guide, Rick pushed deeper into the bowels of the ship. When Morty became fed up of walking, he was only too glad to pick him up and carry him. He traversed through airlock doors and the cleaner atmosphere made way for dank, musty corridors and disgustingly humid passageways, illuminated only by the light of the bioluminescent wax repairs.

It was then that Rick had a sense of uneasiness come over him; whatever had hit this place, it had taken it hard. Although he had looted derelict ships in the past, this one was particularly bad, even in his experiences.

He still couldn't draw much of a conclusion from his observations and kept going.

The further in he went, the worse it became. He started to encounter warped metal and large blast areas that had been hastily sealed off. When he discovered live wires and exposed circuitry sparking in damaged hunks of wall paneling, he wondered how anything was still able to function on the ship at all.

After going in even further, the persistent acrid odors in the air became more offensive and it was getting difficult to breathe. When he felt his chest constricting, he knew that he'd traveled in too far and that it was time to start backtracking. He opted to take another way back only because it offered different scenery to the way he had come in.

The return trip and new pathway painted a much more dire picture; Rick found what appeared to be heavy, black burn marks and old blood-stain spatters up the walls. He stepped over the charred remains of something he couldn't recognize, though it had clearly been alive at some point and it was easily as big as he was. It wasn't related to any of the species he had seen on board thus far.

"What the hell happened here...?" The scientist stuffed the handheld computer back into his pocket so he could run a hand along the black, ashen deposit on the walls, trying to discern what it was, thought it didn't take him long to work it out; the texture and feel was completely unmistakable.

"Carbonized plasma..." He muttered his observation aloud to himself as he dusted his hand off on his pants. "Fucking great. There was a firefight here, Morty. Somehow, I don't think the original ship owners got themselves blown up."

Morty wasn't paying attention; he made a loud whimper of protest and his eyes were glued to the other shapes in the corridor.

They were no longer alone.

"Hmm?" Rick was confused by Morty's alarm cry, at least until he saw them, too; the shadowy shapes of three very-large, bee-like insects silently prowled into the same corridor space and stood before them, blocking the way.

"What the fuck do YOU want!?" Rick hissed. Despite his apprehension, he was still intrigued to know why were they behaving that way.

The first of the insects moved in, pushing the scientist backwards with the smooth flats of its giant scythe claws. The second soon joined in, and then all three were moving as if driven by one mind. There was no aggression in the gesture at all, but they seemed very eager to push him out of their territory.

Rick didn't need any encouragement; they were too big to fight and it probably wasn't safe with Morty around. He simply turned on his heels and retreated. The encounter felt like a giant cover-up, and the whole ship was now a giant puzzle that needed solving.

It annoyed him.

* * *

He had initially decided to head for one of the less-hazardous areas of the ship that the handheld computer had told him about and he supposed that was the real reason he had been given the RFID wristband.

Trying to circumvent the system had been worth a shot, though.

Rick narrowed his eyes in suspicion at what he was hearing as he made his way towards the electronics lab; the unmistakable 'melody' of heavy metal music echoed through the hallways. He didn't know if it was bait or just one of the Ricks being himself; either way, it was the same kind of thing he would listen to if he were working. He closed the map on his handheld computer and decided to detour towards the source of the noise.

As he navigated his way through the corridors, he was sure not to move too quickly so the little boy on his heels could keep up. Before too long, the scientist's journey lead the pair through a large set of open hydraulic blast doors and into a massive elongated room filled with more computers than he had seen in a long time. The only light source came from the monitors and the emergency strips along the floor, casting the larger space in a dull glow of whites and reds.

Despite this, it was still easy enough to see. Rick was able to observe three long columns of tables that were seemingly deserted as they snaked off into the darkness. There were easily over a hundred terminals in each row, their screens either displaying different information or switched off entirely.

"Wow..." Rick was vaguely impressed as he paced up the first aisle on the left, his attention on a solitary pink crystal that was poking out the top of a nearby screen. "Someone's gonna run up a huge power bill. Isn't that right, Morty?" He casually ripped it off and stuck it in his pocket; so much for not messing around with the terminals.

Morty made a short, responsive sound somewhere between curiosity and interest. He stopped at the first table and promptly yanked a keyboard cord, pulling it off the desk.

"Nice one, Morty." Rick turned around to shoot a glare down at him. "We haven't even been here ten seconds and you're already trying to break their shit... c-can you not?"

Morty picked up one of the keys that had fallen off the keyboard in the fall and threw it across the floor, giggling at the sound it made as it skittered into the darkness.

"Yeah yeah, I-I..." Rick wanted to snap, but quickly contained himself; it was such a minor thing to be upset over and he decided that it wasn't worth it. "Whatever, buddy. Do what you want, just try not to eat anything, huh?" He picked up the keyboard and tossed it back onto the desk, deciding to leave his grandson to his own devices as he continued on his way.

The music took him across to the far side of the room. In the furthest corner he found Surgeon Rick slumped over at his workstation and his head down on the desk, a stereo blaring next to his left and a centrifuge appliance whirring away at his right. Rick moved up to stand behind the other man's chair, immediately making note of the fact that he was dead to reality and snoring his head off. He obviously hadn't been there very long either, as the centrifuge still had six minutes left on the clock.

"Hey," Rick lightly poked him in the shoulder, wanting to ask him about the ship. "Wake up."

No response.

Rick made another attempt, this time much harder. "Wake up, dipshit. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Go away..." The other Rick groaned as he raised an arm up to swat the air beside him, trying to brush off the source of the disturbance. "Leave me alone, still got more time..."

Off in the distance, there was a loud crash and a plastic clatter as more things were pulled off the tables.

Surgeon Rick had to sit up at that one. He rubbed at his eyes as he tried to wake himself up, his attention in the direction of the sound. "You OK back there?" He called out.

"Eeee!" Morty's loud, joyful reply came back from the other end of the room.

"Good..." Surgeon Rick yawned, not in the least bit concerned by the fact his workplace was being destroyed. "Oh hey, it's you guys. So you decided to escape again, huh? How'd you figure out the door code? N-not that I care, because if you worked it out, then you earned it as far as I'm concerned." He took a moment to stretch his arms out in front of himself. "Good for you, bro."

"It was unlocked." Rick shrugged, seeing no reason to lie. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing that a dumb intern couldn't do on their lunch break..." Surgeon Rick yawned again, seeming to be having trouble with waking up properly. "Blood fractionation, yo." He rapped on the lid of the centrifuge with an index finger. "Glass tubes are going around and around in circles, just like my life. I got back early, if you can call it that, and decided to catch up on some shit."

Rick raised an eyebrow as he stepped back from the chair, but then quickly decided he didn't care. "What is this place?"

Surgeon Rick sat up properly and swiveled around, his attention on the other in a sleepy, yet confused stare. "You sure you didn't break out? If your door was unlocked, then the boss would have given you a data thingy. Just ask it where you are." He reached over to shut off the stereo and the massive room was suddenly much quieter, sans for the humming army of computer fans. "Of course, it would have also told you that you're not really supposed to be here. I'd tell you to leave but I've kinda lost the ability to give a shit." He casually shrugged. "So, we've already established why I'm supposed to be here... what's your excuse? W-what ARE you doing here?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't really know. I heard the badass music and came over to investigate." Rick shrugged again as he pulled up a chair to sit down. "I guess I'm still trying to get my bearings... if you were hunted down and dragged somewhere against your will, wouldn't you want to find out more about it?"

Instead of answering, Surgeon Rick turned towards his computer and began flicking through the profile data he had been compiling before he had fallen asleep. "How's that workin' out for you?"

"Not well enough. I'm still trying to work out what the fuck is going on around here. What the hell happened to this ship anyway?" Rick sounded highly frustrated as he began to explain. "Everything's broken, the atmosphere is tainted, a-and when I left to go exploring, the stupid insects basically told me to piss off."

"Yeah, they'll do that." Surgeon Rick did not look up. "To tell you the truth, I don't know what happened either. I didn't get here until everything was already fucked. All I can really tell you is that there was an explosion and that all the original inhabitants of the ship are dead. You'd have to ask the ship's physician what happened, 'cause he was the sole survivor when all the bad shit went down."

Rick grunted, seeming entirely unsatisfied with the suggestion, deciding that this was the wrong person to have brought it up with.

"Head's up... approach that subject with caution. The guy doesn't really like to talk about it because he didn't come out of it unscathed." Surgeon Rick smirked. "But if you wanna cheer him up, start calling him 'limpy', or 'scarface'. In fact, call him either one of those as often as you can, he really loves it." He opened up one of the files and began adding clinical notes to it.

Rick watched him work, raising an eyebrow as he saw the photos on the screen. "So is that all you do here? Gather information on Ricks and hunt them down?"

"Sure as hell feels like it lately," Surgeon Rick angrily muttered in reply. "Though, there's not much hunting involved. Most of them are already dead, dying, or are going to die by the time we get to them." He opened the biological specimen storage refrigerator underneath his table and pulled out a beer. "You want one?"

"Not really." Rick dismissively waved a hand, then took the hip flask out of his lab-coat pocket to shake it up. "I'm all set. F-for now anyway."

"Suit yourself, bro." Surgeon Rick pulled the cap off the bottle and threw it across the table. "Oh, a word of advice - if you're going back out there, don't go into exam room one for at least the next twelve hours. I have a sealed body-bag cooling down in there, and it's still, uh... wiggling."

Rick visibly flinched when he heard the confession. "What the fuck!? Do I even want to know?"

"Oh, would you relax? It's fine." Surgeon Rick turned to check the timer on the centrifuge. "Just another dead me, same old BS. Rick E-341 ended up becoming a snack. Dumbass practically wrote himself a death sentence by wandering into an alien-parasite nest. Turns out that the stupid things didn't know that humans need internal organs to survive. Talk about being eaten out... holy shit."

Rick needed a moment to push the disturbing mental image out of his head. "Damn. T-that... that's gross."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Try having to look at it." The other Rick took a heavy swig from the beer bottle, then tilted his head back to drain it of its contents. "Don't worry though, he died the way he wanted – completely wasted. Doesn't get any better than that." He added a loud burp to the end of his sentence and set the empty bottle down alongside the growing collection next to his computer screen. "We've had such a string of bad luck lately, so thanks for surviving. Though statistically, I guess we were going to end up with a live one sooner or later."

Rick made an angry sound and didn't reply immediately. "You're welcome. I have no intention of signing off anytime soon."

"You sure about that? Have you read your file lately?" Surgeon Rick made an attempt to smirk at him, though it quickly faded again in the realization of something that had come to mind. "Aw shit, before I forget... how cooperative are you feeling right now?"

Rick was immediately suspicious and folded his arms across his chest. "I already don't like where that question is going."

Surgeon Rick chose his next words carefully. "It's not going anywhere if you don't want it to. I'm all about consent." He was distracted by the beeping timer on the centrifuge and he swiveled around in his chair so he could shut down the device, deciding that it was more important to deal with in the immediate. "There's only one douchebag on board, and it sure as shit ain't me."

"Hrmph..." Rick averted his attention over his shoulder just to dissipate his souring mood, though he was growing concerned that he couldn't hear Morty moving around anymore. "So what do you want from me now?"

"Can I get some of your blood? More of it, I mean... we took a sample of it while you were out. We did what we could, but some of your numbers came back... inconclusive." Surgeon Rick stood up and pulled the lid off the centrifuge, then began to load the test tubes into a rack waiting nearby on the table. "It would be stupid to release you without having all the data."

"What data?" Rick sat up in the chair, returning his attention to the other, glaring hard at his back. "This shit still isn't fitting together and I've been paying close attention. Derelict ship, priority lists, stalker computer terminals? Keeping me captive against my will? What the hell is going on, a-and how do I fit into all of this?"

Surgeon Rick made a soft sigh in response and placed both hands on the table in front of him, visibly sinking in his posture.

"Well?" Rick prompted him. "Just fucking spit it out already. Why am I so important to you? Because this place is the worst. I wanna go home!"

"You can't... none of us can." Surgeon Rick's voice was low and tired. "Look, I'm only gonna tell you this because I'm actually starting to like you, fuck it. And that sucks, because I can't afford to care."

Rick couldn't glare at him any harder.

"I've already told you that this is a salvage operation. We retrieve losers like you every day, but it's not often we actually get a live one. I think you're the third to survive so far? And that's not even a definite, so... whatever, who cares." Surgeon Rick raised his head, motioning to the terminals beside his desk, then across the room. "This is where HQ sends us the retrieval orders, and then we just kinda wing it from there. This room doesn't really have a name, though I suppose somebody like you might call it 'Stalker Central'. Anything you'd ever wanna know about a Rick can be found here if you only know what parameters to enter. All you'd need is the password."

"Oh yeah?" Rick sat up properly in the chair, seeming vaguely interested. "So what is it?"

"Hah! Nice try. You think I'm gonna give you the password just like that?" The question was sharp, though it seemed to pick up his mood a little. "Fuck off!"

Rick let out an exasperated sigh, his gaze returning to the room behind them. Morty still wasn't making any noise back there.

"You wanna find a Rick with a mustache?" The other Rick casually tapped the query into the computer and pointed at the screen as the resulting profiles scrolled across it. "Here's twenty of the fuckers. You wanna find a drug cartel Rick? I can find you at least nine. You wanna find a sad sorry excuse of a Rick who's been awake too long wasting his time? Don't even need to run a search query for that, b-because it's me." He pointed to himself and grinned. "These terminals and the technology behind the system are probably the only interesting things in this room. Well... apart from us."

Rick was no longer paying attention. He moved off the chair and disappeared down the line of terminals into the darkness.

Surgeon Rick raised an eyebrow at him and sat back down at his table. "Ugh, whatever, dude. I answered your question, what more do you want from me?" He grumbled aloud as he picked up a pen and a stack of labels for the test-tube rack in front of him and resumed working.

The quiet hum of computer terminals was suddenly drowned out by loud wailing.

"What are you even doing over here, Morty? You know how shifty it is when you sneak around in the dark?!"

Another loud cry was accompanied by the sounds of more computer peripherals clattering across the floor.

"Stop touching that!"

Surgeon Rick shook his head and softly chuckled to himself as he applied labels onto the test-tube stems. "Is everything OK back there?"

"Yeah." Rick called back to him as he retrieved his still screaming grandson from under the table he had been hiding under and made his way back across the room. "Somebody broke more of your shit."

"He's being a kid, dude." Surgeon Rick shrugged as he placed the rack into the fridge below his desk. "And who can blame him? This place is fucking boring." He retrieved six more, empty, blood-collection tubes from the top drawer of his desk and popped them into the chest pocket of his scrubs. "Still feeling cooperative?"

Rick deposited Morty onto the floor beside him and sat back down in the chair he had selected earlier. "I-if it will shut you up, then go ahead." His voice was abrasive as he firmly pointed to the space on the floor beside him. "Morty, don't move. Stay here where I can see you... don't you remember any of those rules I set out for you?"

Morty obediently sat on his rear, though his high-pitched whining made it very clear that he didn't want to be there.

Surgeon Rick raised both eyebrows. "Seriously? You're actually consenting?" He retrieved a tourniquet from the clutter on his desk and gave it an experimental snap to test if it were still in good working order. "You're not bullshitting me?"

"No," Rick growled as he rolled up his left sleeve. "Just get it over with before I change my mind."

"Huh..." Surgeon Rick hesitated, needing another moment before he was convinced that the observed behavior was genuine. When he decided that it was, he moved in to snap the tourniquet in place around the scientist's upper arm and pulled it taut. He moved back to his table to prepare everything else he needed for the procedure ahead.

"Still seems like a giant fucking waste to invest so much time in my well-being," Rick resumed grumbling at him. "You want me alive so you can pick my brains for information on the Feds, right? There has to be others you can look up for this."

"There isn't another Rick quite like you at the moment." Surgeon Rick's casual reply came as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves. "And don't blame me for this one. Your retrieval orders came from much higher up than us. I'm just doing my job." He clicked a hypodermic needle into the plastic hub he had waiting for it and made his way back over to the other. "Head's up, this is gonna sting." He stuck the needle into a viable vein and released the tourniquet. After that was done, he clicked the first of the collection tubes into the hub.

"Just doing your job, huh?" Rick hissed in discomfort; being poked with needles had never been something he found favorable. "How can you stand being ordered around? Why do you let the other guy treat you like shit? If it were me, I'd punch him in the face and never look back."

Surgeon Rick did not reply and simply loaded the next vacuum tube into the hub when the first had filled up.

"Well?" Rick scowled up at him. "Why would you even bother listening to somebody like that? Doesn't seem like something I would do at all."

"Phh... he's just abrasive, like you. Things used to be a lot better, but..." Surgeon Rick's voice was suddenly quiet. "If you're going to be spending your time around more Ricks in the future, you'll see a lot of things that you won't agree with. Ricks are more than the sum of their genes. There's environmental influences, learned behavior, and let's not even mention the weird shit they do to make themselves stand out. Don't let it distract you." He popped the third tube into position. "All you need to know is that I get paid to be pushed around and told what to do. If that doesn't sound like something you'd do, then just remember I'm not you."

"That... really didn't answer anything."

"It kinda does, bro. Look, do yourself a huge favor and stop thinking you're me, or any other Rick for that matter." Surgeon Rick lightly tapped him on the shoulder, though his attention was still on drawing blood. "Because Ricks like you have me questioning why the fuck I went to medical school instead of taking your pathway when I really shouldn't be caring. Lemme tell you from experience, if you spend your time trying to work out another Rick's motivations, it may end up consuming you. There are as many variables as there are Ricks. Remind yourself that they're not you and don't think about it."

Rick was deep in thought; the last part had sounded just like something he would say.

"Hey, uh..." Surgeon Rick's tone turned hesitant and awkward. "While we're on the subject of Ricks, I need to be honest with you, because I don't want it to be a shock when it comes up. Some words are going to be thrown around soon enough, and you're not going to like them." He pulled out the third tube and clicked the fourth into the hub. "Words like 'bartering', 'value', and 'price'. This is our job and we've made no secret of that since the beginning, but HQ wants you alive and we wanna get paid, yo."

Rick glared down at the floor and began to run his free hand through his hair, flattening the already flopped-over spikes on top of his head as he tried to process the new information. "You're... you're gonna sell me?"

"Fuck no! See, that's what I mean." Surgeon Rick quickly shook his head. "You're not a slave or a commodity, but it's sure as hell going to sound that way once we start negotiating your value. That dead brother in the body bag? Only worth a few hundred credits. HQ considered you a difficult job and actually getting you there alive is gonna be like winning the lottery."

Rick's attention was back on his grandson and he didn't like the next thought that came into his head; he had to ask anyway. "Are you going to sell Morty, too?"

"Ugh, would you stop? We're getting paid to fix you up and for your continued survival, that's it. We're not selling your freedom out from under you." Despite the deep irritation in his voice, Surgeon Rick kept his focus where it needed to be. "Mortys are worth about 4.1 million credits in today's market, but that's because it's so damn difficult to get one right now. You can't just steal a well-adjusted Morty from his own family either, that's cruel. Ricks are assholes, but they're not barbarians. Who would steal somebody's baby?" He popped the fifth collection tube into the hub. "Think about it this way... how many people would you kill if somebody stole your Morty? It's not worth the risk."

"Hah," Rick bared his teeth in a dangerous grin. "You got that right."

"Yeah, see? Stop worrying, bro. He's yours, and nobody's taking him from you. You've fuckin' earned him by this point." Surgeon Rick turned his head away to yawn. "Holy shit, I can't do this much longer..."

Rick was quiet when the last blood collection tube was slotted in place. Although his situation was starting to make a bit more sense, a huge part of him wanted to break into the computer terminals and start reading. Despite the fact that the note had specifically instructed him not to touch them, their mere presence was taunting him, tantalizing him with the thought of what could possibly be stored on their hard drives.

He'd never been one for following the rules anyway.

"And we're done. Fuck yeah!" Surgeon Rick carefully extracted the hypodermic needle and clamped his thumb over the bleeding site. "I'm sure you know this, but don't do any heavy lifting. And if you gotta masturbate, then use your other arm." He stood over the other, a ridiculously happy grin on his face.

Rick gave him a look of sheer disgust and shoved him away. "Why would I do that!?" He used the thumb of his free hand to clamp down on the affected area himself.

Surgeon Rick broke into a fit of gravelly laughter as he carried the collection tubes back to his workstation so he could begin labeling them. "Worth it." He discarded his set of gloves into the trash and began to snicker all over again.

"You're disgusting!" Rick's left eyebrow twitched as he gave the other a harsh glare. "There's cameras in my room, I-I... I'm not giving you a show!"

"There's none in the bathroom, so you can do pretty much anything you want in there." Surgeon Rick completely ignored his tone. He sat down in the chair and stared at the computer screen in front of him for only a moment. "Aw, shit yeah, motherfucker! New shipment just came in!" He hastily stuffed the collection tubes into the refrigerator under his table and enthusiastically sprang back onto his feet. "Can you do me a huge solid, bro? I need you to hide something for me."

Rick snorted in disgust, still very much riled up. "Unbelievable... you insult me and now you expect my help? Fuck you!"

Surgeon Rick ignored his anger a second time, his voice becoming hopeful. "You're going wandering around the ship later, yeah? Can you hide some coffee cans for me? They belong to the boss, but he's been such a huge asshole lately that he doesn't deserve nice things."

Rick couldn't see any reason why he would be asking him, but the thought of inconveniencing somebody who had caused him grief was appealing. "Fine..."

"Aw yeah, you're the best!" Surgeon Rick sounded way too happy as he gave the scientist two thumbs up. "Well, I'm officially done for the night. You wanna go watch some TV or something? I need time to wind down and I've got pizza on that shipment. You're starving yourself to death and I'm getting fat, so between us, I think we average out."

"You know what?" Rick rubbed at the site of the needlestick injury, seeming content that it had finally stopped bleeding. "Why the fuck not? It's not like I'm doing anything else right now." He pulled his sleeves down again and leaned over the chair to poke Morty on top of his head. "I can't believe you actually sat there so long. Y-you're a good kid, Morty."

"Oh, one last thing. I'm not really able to stop anyone being in here once I leave, so I suppose it might be worthwhile mentioning, uh... something." Surgeon Rick turned to motion towards the wider space in the room, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. "If somebody were to wonder how to access all these terminals, not that anyone ever has because we already know, then all they would need to do is start inputting names."

Rick raised an eyebrow, utterly confused at what he was hearing; he couldn't see any conceivable reason why the other would be telling him this so readily. Either he truly didn't care, or he was being really stupid.

"I'll give you a hint... it rhymes with 'ortimer'. Now go away, because I'm not gonna tell you the password. You're never getting it out of me." Surgeon Rick pumped his fists in the air. "Now stop thinking about it. Let's go watch some TV!" His enthusiasm was immediately cut short and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Holy shit. No judgments here bro, but... what's that smell?"

"Take one wild guess," Rick glared down at Morty, "I think we need to make a detour."

* * *

"Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"Shit yeah, bro. Last time I hid all the toilet paper, and the time before that I replaced all the soap and shampoo in the showers with medical-grade lubricant. As funny as those were, it was too obvious... this one's gonna be way more subtle."

"So," there was a hesitant pause. "Where do you want me to put them?"

"Hide them or dispose of them, don't care. Just make sure you don't flush them down the toilet, because I did that once and it was a bad move. Let's just say it clogged up the water-recycling system and leave it at that." The reply came with a short burst of gruff laughter. "Just... no."

If anyone had told Rick that his future would involve conspiring with one of the very same dimensional versions of himself who had contributed to his imprisonment a mere 24 hours earlier, he would have called them utterly crazy. Yet here he was, following him with a load of coffee cans and a very happy grandson trailing in his wake. He wasn't even really certain why he was doing this either; perhaps it was to humor the other Rick because he hated his boss so much, or perhaps it was just because he wanted to see what would happen.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Surgeon Rick knew where he was going without the need of a navigational aid. He easily balanced a stack of shipping crates as well as four pizza boxes in his arms as he lead the way into the barracks area of the ship. "It's up here," he said in his far-too-happy tone. "Try not to get too envious of my crash space, but it's pretty badass if I do say so myself. If you decide to stay on after being released, you can negotiate your own room with the boss. He'd be happy to have you aboard; it gets pretty quiet around here with just the two of us."

"Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves..." Rick flattened his brows, completely unimpressed; He hadn't even considered anything like it and wasn't sure what to make of the offer.

"You don't wanna stay? Why not?" Surgeon Rick stopped and turned back to face him, not making any effort to hide his disappointment. "Free accommodation, free food, and an entire shipload of free shit? We're certainly not going to touch most of it; we're a different breed to you. If it were me, I'd abuse the hell out of that kind of opportunity."

"I'm not you," Rick reminded him, "and I never will be."

Surgeon Rick turned and continued on his way, thoroughly soured by what he was hearing. "Whatever..." His mood hadn't improved by the time they made it to his personal quarters and he huffily dropped the boxes at his feet. "Do whatever you want, bro. I don't care." He punched in the code to open the door.

Rick was conflicted; he knew he should be bitter with this person, but part of him didn't want him to remain in such a negative state. "I didn't mean it like that," he offered, though he didn't sound entirely convinced of his own words, "I guess I just haven't really thought about it." At least the last part was true.

The attempt to placate the other male seemed to work, because the reply was far less grumpy than before. "Yeah, I hear you, bro." Surgeon Rick picked up the pizza boxes and stepped into the room, quickly adding, "Still figuring it out? Welcome to the club." He tossed them straight onto the coffee table inside.

Rick was about to say something else as he hesitated in the doorway, but he was distracted by the happy youngster that scooted around his legs and ran in ahead of him. "Ugh, here we go again..."

"He's fine, Rick. I just wish my Morty was that interesting." Surgeon Rick grinned back at him, seeming to have forgotten all about the earlier exchange. "Well? Are you coming in or are you gonna stand out there like a dumbass?" He promptly flopped down onto the couch and turned on the TV.

"Fine..." Rick dumped the coffee cans outside and stepped over the threshold of the door.

Surgeon Rick's living space wasn't much larger than the one-room setup that Rick had been stuck in, or perhaps it just seemed that way because the majority of the floor space was occupied by a large L-shaped couch and a coffee table. The one-tier bunk bed was still the same, recessed into the wall with its own window view into space, but it looked like it didn't get much use judging by the fact it was littered with empty liquor bottles and soda cans. Rick's attention was soon drawn to the walls, which were covered with gaudy movie posters in all places except for the spot where the TV was affixed, while the far side was covered floor-to-ceiling in photos, all of them of this Rick's immediate family.

He wasn't sure how to feel about the last observation as he sat on the far end of the couch.

Surgeon Rick observed the standoffish behavior but chose to let it slide. He opened the first pizza box and tossed one of the slices at Morty's feet, stuffing another straight into his mouth. "This is my house so make yourselves at home." He said whilst still chewing with his mouth full. "The nightstand is a bar fridge, go raid it. Mi casa es su casa, dawg."

"You're disgusting..." Rick grumbled. "Don't encourage him to eat things off the floor!"

"Hey, it's good for his immunity." Surgeon Rick bit another chunk out of the pizza slice and began to rapidly flick through the TV channels with the remote. "Don't tell me you've never done it. Five-second rule, am I right?" He stopped on a channel and nodded towards the screen. "You like watching people fall down the stairs? Here's a whole show about it."

"Why would you even watch this shit?" Rick took out his flask and chugged from it; he still wasn't certain why he had come along, but everything was better tolerated with a tipsy edge.

"Because it lets me turn my brain off." Surgeon Rick's attention was already glued to the TV screen. "Plus it makes me feel superior, a-and it reminds me that no matter what happens, I will never be that stupid." He loudly cheered at the imagery of three people tumbling down an entire flight of stairs in a shopping cart. "Oho, yeah! Suck it, douchebags!"

Rick rolled his eyes in disgust and decided it was better to remain silent as he picked up two slices of pizza. Although he was hungry, he already had half a mind to just leave.

The rest of the TV program was watched in relative silence, save for Surgeon Rick's occasional outbursts of raucous laughter. At some point along the way, Morty climbed onto the couch and pried the slice of half-eaten pizza slice out of his grandfather's hands. Rick simply let him and started on another.

As the credits began scrolling, Surgeon Rick decided he was done and tossed the remote in Rick's direction. "I gotta take a shower, so keep surfing until you find something halfway decent. Infinite channels, infinite possibilities." He got to his feet and maddeningly mashed the array of buttons on his handheld computer as he slipped into the bathroom.

Now would have been the perfect time to leave, but Rick's curiosity was already taunting him again. Part of him wanted to get a better look at the photos on the wall, but he already knew that nothing good would come of it. His brows were set in a deep scowl at his own mind as he flicked through more TV channels and started watching whatever came up in an attempt to distract himself.

It wasn't working.

"Damn it..." He hissed in frustration. Sometimes his mind was his own worst enemy and no matter how much power of will he could muster, he just couldn't shut it up. Not even another hefty pull from the hip flask helped.

With a sigh of resignation, Rick was on his feet and heading towards the wall; surely one look wouldn't hurt. It wasn't like he was being held there against his will. He could leave whenever he wanted to.

What he was met with was practically a whole life in rough chronological order. Photographs of a young blonde-haired girl he recognized all too well made up the majority of the far left side, along with pictures of a much younger Rick doing all kinds of bonding activities with her, including eating ice-cream at the beach, pony rides, and pulling crazy facial expressions at the camera lens. One of the photos depicted Beth, who couldn't have been older than five, wearing her father's ridiculous white surgical cap, which was far too big for her. As his eyes moved further along the wall, Beth got older but the other Rick remained a steady fixture in the photos and he concluded that they must have been very close.

There was that nagging guilt again.

"You must like torturing yourself, huh?"

"What the fuck!?" Rick was startled by the sudden statement and turned to face the other, only to be met with his dimensional double's bare chest, still damp from the shower. "Oh geez, why are you naked!?" He quickly averted his eyes back to the wall.

"Because it's hard to wash yourself with clothes on? Duh." Surgeon Rick answered simply. "What's wrong with being naked? It's natural. It's not like I'm gonna start waving my junk around or anything," he paused, a predatory grin growing across his face, "unless you want me to, of course."

"No!" Rick growled, keeping his focus glued to one of the photos. "P-put some pants on, damn it! You know Morty is in the room too, right? Why would you expose yourself to a little kid like that? What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"He's too young to care, trust me." Surgeon Rick laughed at his discomfort. "You have some of the worst hang ups I've ever seen. I mean, really... a-are you just being modest, or are you legitimately ashamed of your own body? I've never met another Rick who's even remotely like that. Did something happen to you?" His grin faded as he realized the question might actually be true. "Oh, shit... do you wanna talk about it?"

"Pants!" It was practically an order. "Now!"

"Sheesh, whatever..." Surgeon Rick shrugged as he moved away to pull a set of sleeping attire out of his bedside table and began to get dressed. "Stop being such a baby."

Rick risked a glance back in the direction of the other, only to turn away when he caught a glimpse of bare ass. "Ugh..." He finally decided to turn around again when he figured enough time had passed. "Wow," he snorted at what the other Rick had chosen to wear. "Nice clothes, dipshit."

"What's wrong with them?" Surgeon Rick seemed confused as he adjusted the collar of his nightshirt; as far as he was concerned, his space-print flannel pajamas were perfectly fine. "They were a thoughtful gift and they're comfortable, so fuck what you think."

Rick knew he should be furious, but there had been no hostility in the words. He quickly concluded that the other Rick was just used to talking like that and let it pass.

"You sure this doesn't bother you?" Surgeon Rick indicated towards the wall with a pointed thumb. "I should have taken them down before inviting you in here. My bad."

"No, it's fine," Rick lied, dismissing it with a wave of his hand, "I just don't get why you put them there."

"Remember what I told you about variables?" Surgeon Rick reached over to pull one of the photos off the wall, his expression hardening as he looked it over. "Every time a critical decision or action occurs, a new universe is born to travel the road not taken. This one is mine." He turned his head to glance back at Morty. "Have you decided what you're going to do with him yet?"

Rick's eyes widened ever so slightly; the question had come out of nowhere and it felt like a punch straight to the gut. "W-what do you mean?" He already didn't like where the conversation was headed.

"Don't be a dumbass, Rick. Let's just say I've been there and I know how you think. You can't possibly have decided that you're going to keep him just yet." Surgeon Rick took the photo with him as he sank back down on the couch. "If you're thinking about raising him, then fuckin' go for it. Take it from me when I say it's totally doable, but... be aware of the fact that it'll change you, and you might not like what you become. Also, don't let him get too cocky... there are so many open variables that HQ has already predicted that in some cases, the Morty becomes the Rick."

Rick stuffed his hands in his pockets and lowered his head; it was as if he were reading the worst parts of his mind that he himself had been avoiding. He made a soft grunt in protest, wanting the whole thing to just stop.

"Relax, brother. I'm not gonna judge." Surgeon Rick patted the cushion next to him in a blatant attempt to invite him over. "If you decide you wanna get rid of him, lemme know because there's at least fifty other Ricks waiting on a replacement Morty right now. One day it'll be the other way around, but..." He shrugged.

Rick reluctantly returned to the couch, but kept enough distance between him and the other so he couldn't do anything weird; he wasn't sure if this Rick could be trusted just yet.

Surgeon Rick was quiet for a short time, seeming to be fighting with himself. "...I'm gonna tell you something," he paused, "and you're not gonna give me shit for it. Deal?"

Rick raised an eyebrow, but anything was better than the current subject if it was going to turn the focus away from him. "Fine."

"Hmm." The other Rick hummed for a moment as he pondered how best to begin. "You've already seen the photos on the wall. You're not stupid... y-you can work it out. In any case, the universe put me in a similar situation to the one you're finding yourself in. Maybe not as dramatically, but..."

Rick uttered an audible grunt of disapproval.

Surgeon Rick ignored him. "'Lizabeth's mother died giving birth to her and I was left with the fallout. Whether or not that was a bad thing, I don't know," he yawned, finding himself sleepy again, "but I didn't get the time to hate the woman as savagely as you did."

The mere thought of his ex-wife caused Rick to launch into a furious tirade. "Creativity-stifling, sex-denying, manipulative, high-maintenance, hormonal, backstabbing, cheating, motherfucking bitch!"

"Whoa, holy shit! Repressed rage much there, bro?" Surgeon Rick didn't know whether to laugh or make fun of him. "Case in point, judging by how crazy Ricks get about it, I think I kinda dodged the bullet on that one."

"You better believe it..." Rick stated sharply as he folded his arms.

Surgeon Rick started to chuckle, not being able to help himself; watching the alternate version of himself getting so worked up was just too funny to watch. "Settle down over there." His attention was back on the TV as he continued on with his story. "When my own surgical team gave me the papers and the option to get rid of her, I didn't know what to do. Sound familiar?"

Rick was completely silent, his posture stiffening; so much for turning the conversation away from him.

"Adoption was still pretty rife in the 80s. Society doesn't look favorably on single parents, even less so when you're the father. Very planetary mindset... fuck Earth, honestly." He picked up the remote and resumed flicking through channels, but it was just something to keep his hands occupied with. "Like you, I was faced with the dilemma of how not to screw it up, but that's self-deprecation talking. It's much easier to look at the other side of the equation: why the fuck not?"

Rick's attention was on the door now; the desire to leave had returned with a vengeance.

Surgeon Rick made note of his body language but continued in spite of it. "Look bro, when I told you it's doable, I totally meant it. I did it, I'm still doing it, and I don't know how the hell I managed it. But you know what? Best years of my life. That kid is great... she was really great." Despite the positive statement, he wasn't grinning at all. "For the longest time it was just me and Lizabeth running around in Rick and Lizabeth time. But like everything in the universe, it came with an expiration date."

"Of course it does..." Rick wondered if the other knew the true depth of those words. Then again, maybe he did. Although he still very much wanted to get out of there, there was obviously more to this. "So what happened?"

"Ugh! She's become a self-centered, egotistical bitch... I didn't teach her that!" Surgeon Rick flew into a rage and hurled the remote straight at the TV. "Fuck her!" He immediately regretted it and got up so he could retrieve the device from the floor. "Any time she calls me these days, it's to ask for money, and she heavily supervises me when I'm around the grandkids because she thinks I'm a drug addict," he coughed awkwardly, quickly adding, "which is a lie."

Rick didn't care.

Surgeon Rick stumbled over to his bar fridge and retrieved a chilled bottle of vodka from it. "So I guess you're probably wondering, what's the point? Why in the fuck would a random stranger Rick even bother telling you this shit?" He returned to the couch and sprawled across the other side. "It's because you aren't encumbered with the same bullshit as I am. You can take that Morty and go anywhere you want. Fuck your self-doubt, fuck what anyone else thinks. You're Rick fucking Sanchez, a-and nobody can tell you what to do." He opened the bottle and freely drank from it, suddenly much more interested in watching TV.

Rick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "W-was that meant to be a pep talk?"

"I was just trying to relate to you, bro." Surgeon Rick took another long belt from the bottle. "If you're gonna give me shit about it, then you know where the door is."

Rick's left eyebrow twitched and he needed a moment to keep himself calm. He sat quietly and kept his gaze in the direction of the TV as he tried to process the information he'd just been given; none of this Rick's motivations and behaviors were making any logical sense to him. If he was trying to be friendly, he was doing a terrible job of it, though Rick knew he wasn't much better in that aspect.

There was still one nagging element that didn't make sense.

"There's an awesome show coming up after this one. It's like MacGyver, but everyone is a meringue. It's like... a-a planet where everything evolved into desserts." By the way Surgeon Rick slurred his words, it was apparent that he was already becoming very inebriated. "Y-you wanna watch it?"

"I don't get it," Rick silently cursed the core of his curiosity, but the first part of the question was already out. "Is that why you're here? You're avoiding your family?"

Surgeon Rick made a noise somewhere between disgust and disappointment. "Fuck, bro... w-why you gotta ask me that?"

"Humor me?" Rick probed him.

"Ugh. You're very persistent... a-and kind of a dick." Surgeon Rick loudly burped as he set the bottle aside and sat back up. "First of all, yeah. Secondly, I haven't done anything noteworthy like you, and HQ will never see me as anything more than a silver piece of shit they can shove around. I need to do something with myself... purpose and all that," he made a sharp angry sound as he continued, "a-and before you go spouting off about idealistic bullshit and infinite realities where nothing you do matters, consider the fact that hauling your ass in here made a difference to you, didn't it?"

Rick twisted his brow into a thoughtful expression.

"S-sometimes I wonder if HQ only picked us up because they need suckers to patch up their mistakes..." He made another tired yawn as he settled back down onto the couch cushions. "Fuckin' likely..."

And just like that, this Rick's motives finally made sense to him; nothing he had ever done to him thus far had been with malicious intentions. He was just following orders and seemed to tolerate taking them because he believed himself to be mediocre. He didn't need to be left wondering if there were better versions of himself out there, either; he already had access to a whole multiverse proving it to be true.

Maybe he harbored as much self-loathing as Rick did for himself.

The more he thought about their differences, the more he wanted to smack some sense into this particular version of himself; he needed to be lectured in standing his ground more often and to stop being such a mindless sheep. It wasn't even his problem to deal with and it still managed to frustrate him.

When Rick heard his dimensional counterpart making soft snoring noises, he took it as his cue to leave. After turning the TV off and throwing a blanket over him, he retrieved Morty from behind the couch, who had been busy pulling the stickers off a puzzle cube he had found on the floor.

After turning off the overhead light, he slipped out of the room. As he paced back down the corridor with his grandson in one arm and stolen coffee cans in the other, his mind was already going crazy processing everything he had just been told; if the talk had been an attempt to help him, it was a bad one.

Because it had not helped at all.

"You wanna know something, Morty?" Rick's expression hardened, his tone resolute and firm. "If anyone decides what to do with you... it's gonna be me."


	16. Well Enough Alone

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Eh you know what? This IP is mine now, I stole it. You know where to send the cheques. (not rly pls don't sue)

 **NOTE:** I don't think some of the memes that slipped into this chapter fit the time period, but exist for amusement. U mad bro? Also, the first 15 chapters have now been tidied/cleaned up for readability if you were wondering why the update delays existed.

* * *

 **Chapter 16 – Well Enough Alone  
**

 **November 27th, 9:10am, Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316  
**

* * *

After leaving the hopelessly pathetic, parallel version of himself to rest, Rick had found a decent hiding spot inside a length of ripped air-duct and stuffed his hoard of coffee cans inside. He returned to wandering the labyrinth of corridors shortly afterwards, but further exploration only gave him more of the same story: broken fixtures, a run-down old ship, and overwhelming evidence everywhere he turned that something sinister had almost completely devastated the place.

A new observation had bothered him after that; the computer's map display showed that there was far more than he had previously explored so far, and while he had tried to get into the sealed areas, the RFID chip simply wouldn't grant him access. Rick was left to conclude that it was either because of his limited level of authority, or because they simply weren't viable enough to breathe in.

Ricktus had obviously planned it long before his arrival, that was for sure. He wanted to press the doctor for further details but wasn't sure how much he would give up; either way, he knew his 24-hour-quarantine deadline was definitely up and was keen to leave. He knew he shouldn't be so intrigued by it all, because as soon as he had his portal gun back he was likely to take off with Morty and never return or give the place another thought.

Key word - likely.

Rick silently cursed his curiosity; despite the frivolity of it all in the grand scheme of things, he still wanted to know. After checking the datapad's clock, the scientist cursed himself a second time; he had wasted so much time exploring that he still hadn't taken up the opportunity to pry in the terminal hub while the other ship inhabitants were still asleep.

His pace quickened as he moved back through the ship only to discover that nobody else was there as he arrived through the doorway; it meant he had the whole place to himself. With a devious smirk plastered across his face, Rick made his way over to one of the computers in the darkest corner of the room and sat down at the chair, depositing a very-sleepy Morty in his lap afterwards.

Within five seconds, he was in the system and browsing; it seemed that Surgeon Rick's 'advice' on the password had been right on the money and for a brief moment, the scientist considered the thought that it was difficult to hate such an underfoot figure.

He shrugged it off and began scrolling through files, immediately noting that they had no real order aside from the date that they had first been entered into the system. He chose one at random and opened it, reading the contents inside:

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

 _ **Log Date:** 2001-05-02_

 _ **Author:** C-711 - Rick Sanchez we all have the same name so what's the point of this? I'm not entering my qualifications because this isn't a dick comparing contest_  
 _ **Subject:** HE DED YO_  
 _ **Risk Level:** That board game sucks_  
 _ **Classification:** Unrestricted_

 _I incinerated D-6342. He was dead. Cause of death was 2" of lead in his skull. Other symptoms included lack of movement, lack of heartbeat, and the copious amount of blood that he got all over my uniform. So inconsiderate, bro._

 _No further information needed because report protocols are fucking stupid._

 _ **MASTER EDIT:** We need detailed accounts for record-keeping purposes. I will not tell you this again._

 _Well screw that!  
_

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Although Rick was amused by the highly unprofessional nature of the data entry, he took a quick chug from his hip flask and moved on to the next, having decided that the first one hadn't told him anything.

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

 _ **Log Date:** 2001-05-06_  
 _ **Author:** Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)_  
 _ **Subject:** Project Rickdemption - claim D-1032_  
 _ **Risk Level:** N/A_  
 _ **Classification:** Restricted_

 _My worst fears have been realized: there is not a sane one among us. We are all broken. There may be ones who are happy in their ignorance but they do not fall on the curve and are not worthy of further mention._

 _I've had to deal with nine dead-and-dying ones this week and it is taking a heavy toll on my sanity. I am incinerating D-1032 today. He was pushed off a ledge: an act of betrayal by his own comrades. He crushed vertebrae C2 and C3 in the fall and the fragments segmented his spinal cord. Lucky bastard - he likely didn't feel anything. We extracted him from his dimension and put him down as quickly as possible. In accordance with the council's requests, his portal gun has been dismantled and the core disintegrated._

 _This project is doing my head in. I need a victory somewhere. I want to feel useful again._

 _ **WARNING:** Please follow appropriate biohazard-disposal protocols. This subject was in no way infectious but standards must be upheld._

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Before the scientist could read any more, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps walking into the area and he froze; whoever it was, they were making absolutely no effort to hide themselves.

"Hey there, C-711," the unmistakable voice of another Rick made himself known as he called out to him from the doorway. "Do you enjoy working in the dark that much?"

Rick didn't respond and clapped a hand over Morty's mouth, his attention already on the door at the opposite end of the room; he knew he wasn't supposed to be here and didn't want a lecture about it. He also knew that he'd already been spotted, so simply slipping away was out of the question.

To Morty's credit, he stayed quiet.

"Did you finish processing that batch of specimens yet?" The other Rick didn't seem to pay him any mind as he sat down at his own work table. "We're falling behind schedule."

Rick was slightly taken aback; the other literally had no clue who he was speaking to. Then he had a crazy idea like so many before it; they all sounded the same and he could totally take advantage of the situation. He wondered if the other Rick would even fall for such a thing because if he was anything like himself, then he certainly wasn't stupid.

Only one way to find out.

"No," Rick finally replied, offering his best attempt at complete indifference. "Get off my back. Yo." As he threw in the last part, he vaguely considered the fact that he might be overdoing it.

"I understand, but perhaps you would be more productive if you stopped working 20-hour shifts. You need to start taking better care of yourself." Ricktus shrugged, his tone implying that he didn't care at all. "Just make sure you get it done as soon as possible. We need the data if we are going to decide how to proceed."

Rick couldn't help but raise an eyebrow; he was totally buying it. "Yep," he carefully picked Morty up and got to his feet. "Got it." He promptly retreated out of the room, feeling unsatisfied with what little he had managed to dig up and decided that he would have to come back another time.

"Wha... where are you going?" Ricktus called out to him, only to watch the spiky-haired, shadowy figure hastily walk off. He shook his head and muttered to himself as he went back to work. "I swear that guy gets crazier every day..."

Not even two minutes later, his actual intended conversational target casually sauntered into the terminal hub.

"Sup, boss." Surgeon Rick passed by his table with a lazy yawn. "Ready for another fun-filled day in paradise?"

"I..." Ricktus swiveled around in the chair and stared up at him incredulously. "What are you playing at?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What are you doing back here?"

"Uh, this is my job? Duh." Surgeon Rick's reply was rather nonchalant as he sat down at his own desk. "Unless you wanna dispatch me back to HQ, which we both know ain't happening anytime soon."

Ricktus continued to stare at him for what he knew was too much time as he tried to process what had just happened. "What the..." His eyes widened in sudden realization and he slammed a fist down on the desk beside him. "Son of a bitch... that arrogant bastard!"

"What the hell?" Surgeon Rick leaned back in his chair and cast his gaze back in the direction of his boss. "Seriously bro, I just got here and you're already mad. Chill it down a few notches, huh? It's too early for your shit."

"Shut up, C-711!" Ricktus snapped back at him. "If I wanted your opinion, I would give it to you!"

"What's got you so worked up anyway, sir?" Before he even finished the question, Surgeon Rick had already drawn a logical conclusion and broke into a fit of gravelly laughter. "Fuck! Really? Just... really? The other fucker was in here, wasn't he? You seriously thought he was me? Just how blind ARE you?"

"Oh, shut up!" Ricktus knew he was repeating himself, but he was already far too worked up and there was no way he could back out of this one. "I didn't ask for your input!"

The outburst only made his assistant laugh even harder and he needed a moment to contain himself. "Oho, SHIT, bro! You realize that even his Morty can tell us apart, right? Oh my god, go get your eyes checked! That's really bad, e-even for you!"

Ricktus stormed out of the terminal hub, his teeth bared in a snarl. "Stop wasting time and get back to work!"

* * *

The electronics lab was definitely a predictable place to retreat to, but at least it would occupy Rick's mind for a few hours and give him an excuse to be somewhere that he couldn't be moved from until his time was up and he could leave.

Meanwhile, Morty was in dire need of a nap and had lost his patience with being carried. He raised an audible protest as he thumped his grandfather in the chest and stomach with his little legs.

"Yeah yeah, I know," Rick grumbled at him. "You've had to put up with following me all day and you're bored, I get it. I'll find something entertaining for you to do soon, OK?"

Morty's response was little more than a soft growl.

"Stop it with the attitude there, buddy... you're really pushing the line." Rick warned as he deposited the youngster onto the ground at his feet, only to sigh in irritation as he watched him retreat into the surrounding area. "Well fine, go exploring if you want, b-but don't get into too much shit... and I shouldn't even need to remind you not to put anything in your mouth!" He turned away to take in his surroundings.

The inside of the lab was more like a storage warehouse and was much bigger than the room housing the collection of computer terminals. There was row after row of shelving stacked as high as the ceiling and each one was packed to full capacity with thousands of boxes of componentry and ship parts. There was certainly more than one could ever personally use in a lifetime, but for as impressive as it all was, all he wanted to do was check out the projects laying out on the workbench near the doorway.

"Hah, what kind of amateur bullshit could these idiots possibly be working on?" Rick felt a small sense of superiority as he picked up a battered ship console that had previously been used for the ship's local-communication network. One quick glance told him that it was not of human origin and simplistic in design, but despite the extent of the damage, it looked like a relatively easy fix. He set it aside and moved across the table.

Next, he found what he could only guess was some kind of broken decoder box and a smashed-up video-game controller, both of them far too boring for him to be bothered with.

There was a loud crashing sound nearby, and Rick turned around to discover that his grandson had already decided to occupy himself by pulling conduit boxes off the lower shelves and distributing their contents across the floor. He figured that there was no harm in it as long as there wasn't anything he could hurt himself on, and if he wasn't trying to eat anything hazardous, then he couldn't have cared less.

"Have fun over there, little buddy." Rick told him. "Though I really don't know why you keep going back to that. Is it cause-and-effect behavior, o-or do you just enjoy making a giant mess?"

Morty's reply was a joyful string of nonsense as he clumsily lobbed a conduit elbow at the older man; either way, it had certainly picked his mood back up.

Rick easily sidestepped the projectile and continued to browse across the table.

"Oho, nice... a holo-projector!" The scientist sounded like an excited child at the discovery of such a simple piece of technology. He picked up the small, half-moon-shaped object and began to tweak the controls. "Hey, Morty, come over here! You wanna check this out with me?"

Although a portion of the display was blacked out, arrays of pink-and-cyan holographic light burst forth from the base where it wasn't cracked. After the device had calibrated itself, the beams of light melded into crystal-clear imagery of galaxy systems along with the tiny speckles of solar systems within them.

Rick held the device at arm's length to show it off properly. "This is something you'd like. I mean it's kinda trashed, b-but... it's still pretty cool to look at."

Morty stopped what he was doing and came over to take a look at the pretty display.

"So you do like it, huh?" Rick smirked down at him. "I figured you might. Yeah, with this baby right here, you can input any coordinate within the known universe and this thing will display a map for you using the point you entered as the center." He continued to fiddle with the controls, seeming incredibly pleased that he had so easily captured his grandson's attention. "Though, I imagine you'd wanna see something a little more familiar, right?" A new holographic map was generated after he had entered the data. "Here's the solar system we used to live in... there's Mercury and Venus and," his breath momentarily hitched in his throat but he managed to catch himself, "Earth."

Morty didn't reply; he was mesmerized by the display and was too busy staring at it.

Rick placed the device on the ground next to the youngster before he could think too much more about it. "Y-yeah, it's best if you play with it... Grandpa's got shit to do..."

Morty immediately occupied himself with trying to grab the holograms and became confused when he discovered that they were intangible. The larger planets seemed to hold his attention the most and he lingered on Neptune and Uranus before finally deciding that he liked Saturn best.

"So you like the gas giants, huh?" Rick occupied himself by gently shaking a toaster and was vaguely curious to know why it was even there. "You'd never be able visit those places, but I know a terrestrial planet with an oxygen-rich atmosphere and that same ice-ring formation. When you get a bit older, I'll take you there... it's a good place to sleep off a hangover."

After a few more minutes of sifting through the repair jobs on the table, Rick relocated his portal gun, or at least the parts of it that had been left out. At least the thief had pulled it apart with meticulous care; the leftover pieces had been very deliberately arranged across the bench and he found corresponding handwritten notes along with his stolen blueprints. The device was very incomplete; the core was missing, as was the battery and one of the layers of circuit board. In its current state, it was little more than junk.

"Fucking great..." Rick snarled as he picked up the resin casing to inspect it. He discovered that although there were charred burn deposits up the inside of the handle cavity, it had remained completely intact. Even though the battery had obviously exploded, it had been contained without a single scratch, working just as intended. "I hope you know how to put this back together!"

"I've built a few for myself over the years," the voice came from the doorway, "I'd like to think I have a pretty good idea."

Rick narrowed his eyes in the direction of the unwelcome visitor. "Oh great... what do YOU want?"

"Such hostility," Ricktus wandered into the room and offered a pathetic attempt at a friendly grin as he stopped a few feet away from the workbench. "Did you know that you move quite quickly for someone who is supposed to be deathly ill? You keep defying all logic, I... I'm actually pretty impressed, to tell you the truth."

"Don't care."

"Look, I'll just come out and say it - I know exactly where you were just now." Ricktus suddenly glared hard at the other, his mood swinging to authoritative in an instant. "While I'd prefer that you didn't snoop around my terminals, I actually came to formally offer you a place in that room. You're still willing to document your knowledge on the Federation, yes? Hell knows we're sorely lacking..."

"Again," Rick grunted, "don't care."

"Oh, would you stop it already?" Ricktus huffed at him. "I get that you're pissed at me, but get over it. I'm not the enemy, Rick. When are you going to drop the tough-guy act?"

"I don't know," Rick hissed back, "when are you going to let me go? Time's up and I got places to be. I'd demand my portal gun back, but it looks like you've well and truly fucked it. Thanks a lot by the way, I-I kinda needed that!"

"Yes, well..." Ricktus cast a sudden awkward glance back towards the doorway he had come in through. "I have every intention of getting it back to you, but I've had some... minor trouble locating another battery."

"Are you kidding me?" Rick gritted his teeth. "How hard could it be? It was just a shitty, 4-amp hour stick cell from a DuhWalt impact driver that I picked up from Better Buy about a decade ago. It was just common Earth commercial trash. Not like it was rare or exotic or anything."

Ricktus stared back at him, then hastily took the handheld computer out of his top coat pocket. "Is that so? That information sure would have been useful several hours ago..." He feverishly typed the required information on the screen, then held it up to show him the display. "This it?"

Rick shrugged; he saw no reason to lie, especially if it meant leaving faster. "Close enough."

"Good. I'll get that sorted out later." Ricktus stuffed the device back into his coat. "I would put it on the next shipment, but our delivery guy is unreliable. He keeps losing my stuff even though it's very clearly spelled out on the dispatch forms."

Rick had to bite his tongue and stifle a laugh.

Although the doctor was confused by his captive's reaction, he let it slide. "When we get back to the ship, I'll let you install it yourself. I'm not going to risk breaking it again."

"Get back?" Rick's mood soured as he growled the words out. "You got that wrong. I'm not staying here if I can help it. Birdperson kinda sorta needs to know I'm not dead. Thanks for that too, by the way. H-has anyone even bothered to tell him where I am?"

"Your dedication to your friend is admirable, but all in good time. Did you forget already?" Ricktus slowly shook his head, finding Rick's current emotional state mildly concerning to listen to. "You've survived this long, so the plan is to take you to HQ and show you everything. I could spend hours talking about why we dragged you out of your dimension, but why waste your breath talking when you can just demonstrate? After that's all said and done, you're free to go."

"Oh, right. That..." Rick diverted his attention back towards the communication device on the table. "So, just out of curiosity, how much am I worth?"

Ricktus tensed ever so slightly in posture. "Uh, pardon me...?"

"Don't play dumb!" Rick harshly snapped at him. "Your lackey had the decency to fill me in already. Maybe he felt compelled to because he actually has a conscience or something, I-I don't know!"

Ricktus was silent as he observed Rick's behavior, and he took a singular step back towards the doorway.

Rick picked up the console and began to pry it apart. "Look, it's fine, I already know the story," his anger dissipated. "You want my intel and you wanna get paid for it, I get that. If I was getting a shitload of money, I would imprison me too, but I would at least have the decency to answer the fucking question." He picked up a screwdriver and used it to lever the top off the metal casing. "So, enlighten me... what's my current going rate?"

Ricktus made an uncomfortable noise and was hesitant to oblige his request. He had initially been preparing for retreat if his captive was going to fly off the handle, but now he was just nervous; he found this Rick's behavior impossibly difficult to predict. "That part is a motivator, but... it's not all of it." He spoke finally. "You see, you're a puzzle that needs solving. You should be dead and you're anything but, and I want to work out why. Surely you of all people can understand that?"

"So that's how it's gonna be, huh? Whatever..." Rick exhaled a short, frustrated sigh. "You got a soldering gun?"

"Huh?" Ricktus seemed taken aback; the question had seemingly come out of nowhere.

"Soldering gun," Rick scowled as he repeated the words. "You know, the zappy thing you use to melt and burn stuff? Surely you know what that is."

"Top drawer on the left." Ricktus frowned back at him. "You don't want to know what's wrong with you?"

"Not really... I've asked what I wanted to and if you're not going to give me a straight answer, then I don't care about the rest." Rick opened the aforementioned drawer and pulled up a chair to continue dismantling the console with the small handheld tool. "You know I hate repeating myself, but I've already told you that I think this whole thing is a waste of everyone's time. There's nothing wrong with me or Morty."

"How do you know?"

"I'm fairly certain," Rick grumbled. "If both of us got blasted with the type of radiation you're thinking of, then Morty would already be dead by now... I'm not entirely sure how much of a factor your bullshit serum thing was, but I'm willing to say not much."

"At the very least, it bought you some time," the doctor folded his arms across his chest, looking vaguely offended. "And it does a LOT more than 'not much', let me assure you!"

"Don't care." Rick snorted. "What evidence have you got to support your plasma-radiation theory? Why don't you just go back to the planet Earth in my dimension and take a detector with you to ground zero? That... t-that would answer everything."

"It really would, but," Ricktus paused uncomfortably before speaking the next words, "I doubt anyone will be visiting that place for a long time. There are constant gale-force winds and all the particles in the air are razor-edged glass shards. Anything that went there right now would be ripped to pieces."

"Send a probe." Rick offered.

"That would get ripped to pieces, too."

"So make one that wouldn't. Duh." Rick did not look up and continued his repairs, sending sparks flying across the table.

"Do I look like I'm capable of that?" Ricktus huffed at him. "That's your specialty, not mine. Case in point, what are you doing right now?"

"Fixing your shit for free because I'm bored." Rick grumbled. "Come on, stop getting off track. What other evidence have you got? Have you taken body mass into consideration yet? Because that one seems rather obvious... Morty would have received a much higher dose of radiation than me simply because he's little. He'd be more than dead - he'd be gelatinous glowing chunks by now."

"Yes, I did consider it, but..." Ricktus furrowed his brows deep in thought. "I'm still trying to work out the physics behind it all. Your Morty was strapped to your chest at the time of impact, correct?"

"Y-yeah... so what?"

"I'm willing to bet that you've taken the worst of it, and that your Morty was likely shielded by your body throughout the entire incident. It's been just over a week since I administered the curative serum to both of you, 8 days in fact. It should be out of your system by now, which means you should start deteriorating again... but you haven't. At all." Ricktus narrowed his eyes hard at the other. "Your Morty should have crashed too, but he hasn't. I want to know why."

"I know why," Rick finally looked up to glare back at him. "It's because you're wrong."

"How can you be so sure?" Ricktus almost sounded insulted. "Can you honestly tell me that you're both going to be fine with one-hundred percent certainty?"

"Well, no, bu-"

"Then DON'T discredit me." The other Rick's tone was firm as he cut him off. "Why would you do that without knowing all the details? Just because you're both asymptomatic right now doesn't mean that the pair of you are going to be fine tomorrow, or the day after that, or even in a week from now... in fact, you should start expecting the opposite. At least let me sate my curiosity before deciding I'm done with it!"

"What do you think we are, guinea pigs?" Rick rolled his eyes in disgust. "In the highly unlikely event that something does happen, which it isn't going to, then let me deal with it as it comes... it's always worked out just fine so far." Once he had gotten down to the center of the console, he pulled the piece of crystal out of his pocket that he had stolen earlier and began to solder it down.

"I... w-what..." Ricktus stumbled over his own words as he became flustered. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane!?"

"Yep." Rick answered with a casual nod.

"Damn it, this isn't a joke!" Ricktus retorted, feeling himself becoming riled up. "Didn't you hear what I just said? You're not even entirely certain what happened yourself, and all you've got is an educated guess at best. Why would you put your Morty at risk like that? How can you be so confident that your health isn't going to decline again? Don't you have any concern for your own life!?"

"Nope." Rick answered matter-of-factly, then leaned back to fan solder smoke away from the circuit board.

"Well you should!" Ricktus growled. "If not for your sake, but your Morty's! Do you think he wants to die over your half-assed assumptions? Don't be so monumentally idiotic!"

Rick's only response this time was a wordless grunt, and he kept his focus on what he was doing.

"I can't believe how obstinate you're being... don't you know how serious this is?!" Ricktus raised his voice in anger. "I have detailed records on your personality and I can honestly tell you that you're not THAT stupid. I am left to conclude that you're only doing this to be stubborn!"

Rick smirked in spite of the conversation. "Well, I have been known to do some pretty stupid things..."

"Goddamnit!" Ricktus finally snapped and stepped back to pinch the bridge of his nose, giving himself a moment to simmer down again. "Look, you want evidence? I already gave you some. Do you still have that pathology report I attached to your release package? I'm going to explain it to you in detail whether you like it or not, because somebody has to talk sense into you!"

Rick made a soft, fed-up sigh as he set the soldering iron aside. "Will it make you go away faster?" He retrieved the report papers from his top lab-coat pocket and set them down on the table beside him. "Knock yourself out." He resumed repairing the communication console.

"You know, I get that you're bored, but there has to be another reason you're doing that." Ricktus raised an eyebrow at the other as he stepped in to retrieve the documentation. "Fixing that has no beneficial outcome to you."

Rick shrugged. "I do what I want."

Ricktus genuinely didn't know what to make of the response. "Is it a distraction? Because I get that... but how are you doing it so quickly? I've been struggling with that damn thing for well over a month, and there you go and fix it like it's nothing."

"You wanna know the big secret?" Rick gave him an arrogant smirk, seeming grateful for the change in subject. "Spoiler alert - I learned it. If you wanna know something, you gotta learn it. Big revelation, right?"

Ricktus hissed back at him through clenched teeth.

Rick couldn't help but chuckle, finding his dimensional counterpart's ire amusing. "C'mon, gimme some credit. I build robots for fun." He began to reassemble the console with the screwdriver he had found earlier. "Anyway, you should be thanking me, I've just upgraded it. I can't believe you were communicating on your local network using unencrypted channels, which is dumb if you don't wanna be found. Your computer terminals use crystallized xanthanite, which means you're smart enough to know how interdimensional communications work... yet you can't even fix your local channel? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"The terminals came from headquarters, so they weren't my doing." Ricktus kept his attention on the papers if just for a credible distraction. "I'm assuming you knew about that because you've been wandering around where you're not supposed to."

"Already told you," Rick clapped the cover back onto the console and screwed it down. "I do what I want." He pushed it back across the table now that he had finished with it.

"Well yes, you've made that apparent many times over..." Ricktus muttered grumpily as he leafed through the three-page document. "Have you even bothered to look at these numbers? I can print out the results that came back for your Morty if you want them as well, but there was nothing of concern."

"I told you so."

"Shut up, Rick." Ricktus flattened his brows, completely unimpressed. "For somebody who likes keeping himself well informed, you're doing a terrible job of it. If you wanted evidence, you should have read the damn thing in the first place!"

Rick folded his arms across his chest and matched his dimensional counterpart's expression.

"I need to emphasize how important this is because somebody has to... besides, I don't know what these numbers mean yet and it's driving me insane," he turned back to the first page. "You're mildly Vitamin-D deficient, which is pretty typical of somebody who spends most of his life in space. Your Vitamin-B12 levels are also terrible, but both of those are pretty easy fixes under normal circumstances. If only they were..."

"Uh huh." Rick made his disdain very apparent as he slid off the chair. "Whatever." He stood over Morty, who had since fallen asleep beside the holo-projector.

"Your antibody markers were boring but low, which means they're going to have to be reviewed again soon. At least you don't have any STDs or Space AIDS?" Ricktus offered him a dry laugh. "But your serum chemistry? Inconclusive. I couldn't get any data at all, and the only logical conclusion I can draw from that is because the residual curative serum in your system must have thrown out the numbers. I was told not to interfere prematurely yet I did anyway." Regret etched at the edge of his voice. "That one is on me, but it still doesn't explain the anomaly. You should have crashed by now. I really don't get it..."

"I'm going to stop you there. Just... shut up." Rick crouched down to retrieve the youngster from the floor. "I already told you I don't care."

"You should, because it leaves us with only one way to get credible data and nobody is going to like it."

Rick stood up again once he had Morty securely in his arms; that statement had been enough to regain his interest. "Oh?"

"Yes," the doctor did his best to remain stoic and clinical, but the fact that he was nervously playing with the corners of the pathology report he was still holding betrayed any detachment he was trying to show towards the issue. "The only course of action from here out is... to do nothing."

"Hey, you know what? That actually sounds great!" Rick's response was far too upbeat. "That's the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say. I agree - let's do nothing."

"I don't think you understand what that means!" The other Rick sighed in exasperation. "You see, I'd dose you up with more curative serum, but the only way to see the full extent of your problem without clouding the results is to... well... let it happen and observe, then act accordingly."

Rick gave him a victorious, smug grin. "So you're saying to deal with it as it comes? My, where have I heard that before?"

Ricktus glowered at him over the top of his glasses, his shoulders sinking slightly in defeat.

"So you're planning for failure, huh? And not just regular failure... it's actually your whole damn strategy." Rick shook his head and made a soft, disappointed sound of mockery. "Ordinarily I would say that's dumb, but it's actually going to work out for you in this case. Here's what's gonna happen - nothing. Not to me, not to Morty. You're going to get frustrated and I'm gonna get even more bored than I am now."

"You still don't know that..."

"So let's go with your plan and find out which of us is going to be right then, OK?" Rick grinned even further, baring his teeth. "Because I wanna be the mayor of 'I told you' town."

The doctor's response was a tired sigh as he pulled the glasses off his face. "Are we actually agreeing on something here, or are you going to be stubborn about it again?" He placed a hand over his face and rubbed at his eyes before continuing. "Because I'll do it if it means obtaining the data, but this is not how I wanted to do it. I planned this whole thing out so much differently, but of course you decided to fuck it up right from the word 'go' and make everything difficult..."

"Oh, you think this is my fault? You didn't exactly make it clear that you weren't trying to kill me, you know. You also didn't exactly ask... you demanded. Why in the fuck would I ever take commands from somebody?" As much as Rick wanted to raise his voice, the sleeping child in his arms prevented him from doing so. "Don't blame me because you're having a hard time. You've also been pretty damn shitty since I got here, e-especially with the whole kicking me in the balls part. So fuck you."

"Touché." Ricktus scowled off to the side, deciding that he was becoming fed up of the whole conversation.

"So yeah," Rick was actually starting to enjoy the fact he was wearing him down. "I guess we are agreeing on something. Lucky you, huh? You're gonna get a ton of cash for doing absolutely nothing."

"Yes, nothing..." the other Rick's tone was cool and dripping with sarcasm. "This entire operation is a giant cover so I can sit on my ass and play video games all day."

"You know, I-I would actually hang around for that." Rick half-mocked, shaking his head in amusement. "So, if we're going to be spending some time working together, at least tell me how much I'm worth. And if the cash is only an incentive, then what the hell are you doing here? What's your endgame? Because you sure as shit don't seem like the altruistic type."

Ricktus made a soft noise of protest in the back of his throat. "You're really going to keep pushing that, aren't you?"

Rick narrowed his eyes. "You said if I cooperate, I can ask anything I want."

"I did say that..." Ricktus studied his captive's expression carefully. "You ask a lot of questions."

"Only because you're so damn evasive."

"Fine..." The doctor rolled his eyes and conceded. "I don't actually know your exact value, but the assistant and I get to negotiate that later today. So, you want to know why I'm here? You want to know why I'm running this entire operation?"

Rick raised an eyebrow in silent inquisition.

"Put simply?" The doctor placed his glasses back on and pushed them squarely back on the bridge of his nose. "I want my gold pin. I want accolades and recognition of my services to the Council."

Rick stared at him for a moment, then burst into a fit of laughter. "Wow, what the hell? You want a boy-scout badge and your ass kissed?!"

"S-stop that!" Ricktus hastily objected. "I'm being serious! Contributing to the Council's vast library of information is beneficial to all of us, Rick. As for you," he motioned to him with a pointed finger, "I want to document your current predicament so other Ricks of the medical persuasion will know how to treat it if it ever comes up again. Presenting you to the Council will put us all in much better places, trust me."

"Wow, you're really not kidding, are you?" Rick shook his head. "Phh, whatever. I'll entertain your damn 'council'," he emphasized the word by making air-quote gestures with his fingers, "and I'll prove you wrong. But all of that's gonna be on my own time, and only if I feel like it. Got that? No more of this... I don't even know what you're doing. I mean, I get that you're running this shitshow, but the whole attitude thing seems entirely unnecessary. Kinda makes you look like a douchebag."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"Well stop it," Rick grumbled back at him. "If you're gonna keep it up, I'm outta here. Got that?"

"Fair enough. If you can use your datapad to record and keep track of symptoms, I don't actually care where you go." Ricktus nodded; while he wasn't exactly pleased with the progress he was making, at least it was something. "And if you go downhill, I can just drag you back in here. I'm not going to let you die. I'd also like to collect more blood at some point, so I can compare the resul-"

"Way ahead of you," Rick cut him off, "Already done."

Ricktus couldn't help but stare at him. "Wait, what? How...?"

"That lackey you shove around," Rick answered with a casual shrug. "He asked me, so I let him. Wasn't that hard. Sometimes actually asking works, you know? You should try it some time."

"Rick, that didn't work for me when I tried to get you here in the first place." The doctor knew he looked positively stupid by now, but it still didn't stop him from continuing to stare at the scientist in utter disbelief. "There's got to be more to it than that!"

"There really isn't." Rick set Morty over his shoulder when he began to whine, and gently patted him on the back in the attempt to settle him again. "Keep your damn voice down, huh? I don't know how much sleep Morty needs, but-"

Ricktus interjected before he could finish. "At 18 months of age, it's about 11 hours."

Rick snorted in irritation. "He's not-"

The other Rick cut him off a second time. "He is next week."

"Shut UP!" Rick snapped back at him. "But it's less than one hour at the moment, and unless you wanna deal with the screaming when you wake him up, then I strongly suggest you shut the fuck up!"

"Rick, you're making more noise than I am now. Stop getting off track." Ricktus couldn't believe he was repeating the same thing that this Rick had told him not too long ago, yet there it was all the same. "How long ago were the blood samples taken?"

"I don't know," Rick growled the words out, making it apparent that he was still very grumpy. "Several hours ago? Why would I keep track of something like that? Who cares?"

The doctor nodded in reply and backed up towards the doorway, suddenly quite keen to leave. "We depart for the Citadel in approximately seven hours. I suggest you get some sleep. Take that Morty with you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." Rick muttered in reply. "So... I still don't quite know what the hell's going on. What's so special about this place that you keep clinging onto it? Are you ever gonna tell me what happened to your ship, o-or what?"

Ricktus flattened his brow and his mouth set in a hard line. "I am... NEVER going to answer that."

"Hey, it doesn't matter to me. Once I have my portal gun back, I can just leave at the first sign of trouble." Rick stated bluntly. "Just for survival's sake, should I be concerned? Are you running from something?"

The other Rick's expression did not change and he remained completely silent.

"Come on, don't play dumb with me. That part was too easy to work out," Rick snorted derisively. "There's busted shit everywhere, a-and I mean everywhere. Just take one look at the walls, the ceiling, fuck... the whole place smells like a decaying fart."

"Rick, stop it..."

"And don't try to play it off as an accident either," Rick continued rambling, "I found evidence of plasma fire up the walls and one of your dead buddies was hanging around one of the hallways before the bees told me to piss off. Yeah, don't think I didn't notice those little details. What the hell are you so afraid of? What happened here?"

"Stop it," Ricktus's tone had become threatening, "I will not tell you again."

"So you ARE running from something?" Rick knew he was running his mouth off by now, but curiosity had taken over. "Is it coming back? Is that how you got yourself so mutilated?"

The scientist knew he'd hit a raw nerve when he saw his dimensional-counterpart's expression shift; for a brief moment his eyes widened and he looked like he'd just been wounded. Then he promptly covered for it by baring his teeth in a snarl and clenched his hands into fists, crumpling the pathology report he was still holding.

"MUTILATED!?" Ricktus roared with rage as he threw the papers down and stomped on them. "Where THE FUCK do you get off saying that to me, a-and how DARE you even suggest that?!"

Morty woke up with a startled jolt and immediately started bawling. He buried his face into his grandfather's shoulder and hugged onto him as he wailed even louder next to his ear.

"Oh fucking great," Rick hissed. "Great job, dumbass! I warned you. I-I fucking warned you!" He gave the little boy reassuring pats in the attempt to soothe him, though he was certain that his own anger wasn't helping very much.

Ricktus glared back at his captive, positively incensed. "You think this one is on me?! You're... y-you're the one sticking your face in places where it doesn't belong and talking about things you don't even understand! You don't know SHIT!"

"Yeah, duh," Rick's reply was dry and sarcastic. "Because you're leaving me to guess. Am I at least doing a good job? How much of it is right so far? Do I get points for this?"

"You know what? No... I'm not doing this with you anymore!" Ricktus waved both hands out in front of him, dismissing the whole conversation. "Do me a huge favor and just... get out of my sight. LEAVE!" He pointed sharply to the doorway and raised his voice again. "Be at the portal hub in seven hours. Do not be late or I will find you and drag you there myself!"

"Yeah, gladly," Rick retorted. "Anything to see the back of you."

"GET OUT!"

Rick paced out of the workshop again and carried a very-loud, upset Morty with him, a deep scowl set across his face. He was still very much riled up and annoyed over how Morty had been woken up, but now there was a nagging uncertainty eating at the back of his mind and it soured his mood even further; he genuinely didn't know if his health was going to deteriorate again or not. Either way, he didn't want the other Rick to be right.

At least he had learned how to push his buttons.

* * *

Rick retreated with Morty back to the room he had been staying in, but nearly an hour of trying to soothe the little boy had been to no avail. Rick was nearing his wit's end; he'd never really had to deal with crying quite like this before - he had always dodged it by palming his screaming daughter and grandchildren off to their respective mothers. It seemed incredibly counterproductive to him that an overtired child could put all his efforts into an activity that would only make himself even more tired, but then again Morty was far too upset and young to understand how to reason his way through anything logically anyway.

Rick had tried a number of strategies with no success; rocking the youngster and putting him over his shoulder hadn't worked. Lying down with him had also proven to be useless, as had the attempt to settle him with a warm bottle of formula; the kid was just far too worked up to care about any of it.

After another few minutes of enduring the little boy's unreasonable tirade, Rick bundled him up in one of the blankets from his bed and laid him down on it. He tried strumming out a couple of tunes on the guitar after that, but none of it did any good and he found it genuinely discouraging; music was one of his own greatest comforts besides drinking and if something like that wasn't going to work, then he had run out of options.

"Jesus, Morty... shut up, will ya? Your damn crying is giving Grandpa a headache." Rick grumbled as he set the guitar back in the corner of the room. "Come on, how can I make it better? Help me out here."

Morty's response was a short sniffle as he breathed in, followed by another upset wail on exhale.

Rick released a heavy sigh as he sat down on the edge of the bed; he'd run through everything he could think of and he was worn down by the noise. "At least it's not my fault this time. Well it kinda is, just not... me, as in actual me. Yeah... try not to think too hard about that, buddy."

Morty wasn't paying attention and squirmed under the blankets.

"Ugh..." Rick flopped backwards, his weight heavily sinking into the mattress as he tried to mentally block out the unbearable noise next to him on the bed. His eyes idly traced the bioluminescent, green lines on the ceiling as he tried to ponder other ideas, though he had to admit that he currently couldn't think of any. When he felt dull, vibrating sensations at his chest, he grabbed at the source of the annoyance and discovered that his handheld computer was paging him. He took it out of his lab coat and held it above his head, not bothering to get up. One quick tap of the screen revealed a pending message, which read:

 _-'As much as I do not want to talk to you, I owe you my thanks. Your repair job worked better than expected - the communication network is back online and running at optimal capacity. No pun intended, but the sound quality is crystal clear.'-_

Rick rolled his eyes; if the other Rick truly hadn't wanted to talk to him, he wouldn't have sent the message at all. With a frustrated sigh, he reluctantly mashed out a reply. _-'Yeah, because I'm great. Now turn on the encryption before you kill us all.'-_

The computer buzzed only a couple of seconds later. _-'How do I do that?'-_

Rick had to close his eyes and cover his forehead with his free hand; the stupidity was actually painful for him to read. "You gotta be kidding me..." He sat up this time and angrily thumbed another reply on the keypad. _-'There were several switches on the motherboard so one of them has to do something. Try opening the lid, dumbass.'-_

 _-'How?'-_

The computer was tossed aside this time; he wasn't even worth replying to and the scientist wasn't about to waste any more time on it while his grandson was still crying.

"Come on, kiddo... this has gone on long enough, you've made your point." Rick carefully picked up the still-squirming bundle of blankets and lightly poked it with a finger. "Why are we still doing this? You can go back to sleep anytime you want. There's nobody here but you and me, a-and you're the only one still hanging onto it." He was incredibly weary, but somehow managed to keep his tone gentle. "L-let it go, huh...?"

Morty stopped just long enough to catch his breath and began his protests anew.

"Well, shit..." Rick hissed through clenched teeth. He rose to his feet and began to pace back and forth across the room with the little boy over his shoulder, figuring that movement might help; he was willing to try just about anything by now. "Hey, computer, uh... give me somewhere quiet to go. I'm kinda over this, a-and maybe a change of scenery will fix it."

"Working," the computer's monotone voice chirped back at him from the bed. "Suggested locations are: Library. Zero-gravity chamber."

"Well that's stupid," Rick firmly declared. "Morty can't read. Why the fuck would I wanna go there?"

"Confirmed," the computer warbled back. "Displaying map directions to zero-gravity chamber."

"Wow..." Rick huffed as he moved over to pick the device back up. "Are you actually trying to be sarcastic or what?"

"Negative. My function is to give and receive information, not to humor you with meaningless conversation and 'fucking bullshit'. That's you. That's how you sound."

"Punk ass little bitch..." Rick muttered as he paced out of the room.

While the trip to the zero-gravity chamber was a short one, Morty decided to scream the entire way, though his weakening cries made it quite clear that he was finally tiring himself out. Rick swiped his RFID chip at the panel beside the door to open it and was met with a rather peculiar sight inside; the entire space was nothing more than a dimly-lit, metallic, hollow sphere with a glass-domed ceiling and a rather spectacular view into space. The chamber itself was massive; its diameter was easily the length of a football field.

Curiosity overtook the scientist as he held Morty in one arm and reached out with the other; he wanted to know how the ship's gravity generator could be so precise. He stepped off the ledge and began to drift across the open expanse; while he was a seasoned veteran when it came to space and the lack of gravity, his attention was still glued to the walls as if they would give up their secrets.

Meanwhile, the bizarre new sensation took up interest in Morty's young mind; he had never experienced weightlessness before, and while he still wasn't quite ready to give up his protest, it was certainly enough to begin quelling his cries.

This certainly did not go unnoticed by the scientist and he grinned down at the little boy, seeming quite pleased. "Well geez, Morty... i-if I had known that this was what you wanted, I would have just come here in the first place." He shook his head, though he was more than a little relieved. "Gravity is only temporary... just like everything else. You should remember that the next time you get yourself so worked up."

Morty's only reply was a soft whimper as he clung onto his grandfather's arm with both tiny hands.

Rick made a soft sigh. "Don't be like that. I'm not actually mad at you," he gently patted him on the back. "You just... like making things difficult sometimes." He was quiet as he pondered that thought; it sounded just like the complaint he had received about himself.

Morty was far too young to understand any of Rick's words, but the pitch and tone of his voice was enough to soothe him as was the feeling of floating; it was just like being rocked. He put his head down on his grandfather's shoulder, comforted by his closeness, his warmth and familiar scent, the combination of all these things finally putting his cries to rest.

"And there we go... good job, buddy." Rick tilted his head back and began to initiate a slow backwards tumble as he continued to drift across the open expanse; no matter how many times he'd been in zero-gravity, it was still one of his favorite things to do. "So... you like this too, huh? Y'know, I'm beginning to see a theme here. It's totally cool with me if you're into the whole space thing, b-but don't feel the need to impress me."

Soon enough, the gentle momentum lulled Morty into drowsiness and he started to fall asleep. Rick allowed him that; he was beyond exhausted himself and in dire need of peace and quiet. He secured the blanket around the both of them so that the youngster wouldn't drift away and simply floated across the hollow expanse until the little boy finally nodded off. Even though he didn't want to admit it, the sensations of weightlessness had similar effects on him and he found himself heavy with tiredness. He closed his eyes and gave up, succumbing to a dreamless sleep not long afterwards.

In the six hours that passed, neither of them were disturbed. When the handheld computer in Rick's pocket buzzed, he didn't notice it. It went off a second time and his RFID wristband loudly beeped but nothing happened; the spiky-haired man had been awake too long and was completely out of it.

Suddenly, the door to the zero-gravity chamber swung open and his dimensional counterpart stuck his head into the room, angry and in a fluster. "Hey B-526, what the hell are you doing? Didn't you get my messages?!" Ricktus called out to him. "We have an appointment with the Council and we need to get moving!"

When the doctor didn't get a reply, he was quiet. He squinted his eyes hard and cursed his defective vision as he scanned the chamber for his intended target; while his computer's positioning software had told him that his captive was at this location, he couldn't see anything. "I sincerely hope you're not trying to hide again," he called out a second time, "because this is an enclosed space and I'm standing at the only exit!"

It was then that he found them; Rick had drifted across to the far side of the room during his time asleep and was comfortably resting up against the glass, Morty still safely nestled in his arms. Although he was still anxious about being on time, Ricktus found himself reluctant to disturb them. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at the pair and felt sharp pangs of jealously stab through his chest; watching the pair genuinely hurt and he twisted his mouth into a hard frown.

"You're absolutely fucking clueless, Rick..." He hissed bitterly. "You have no fucking idea how lucky you are. Y-you goddamn son of a bitch."

As far as he was concerned, this whole thing was just becoming far too personal and a giant insult straight from the top of the chain of command.

At least it would all be over soon, or so he thought.

* * *

It was Surgeon Rick who would finally retrieve the pair from the zero-gravity chamber; he was elected to do so because of his less-abrasive personality and simply because his boss wanted to avoid another potential confrontation. As Rick followed him back through the ship, it was quite apparent that he was still in the process of waking up and in a bad mood. At least Morty hadn't woken up this time; he wasn't ready to deal with that again so soon.

"What's meant to be so great about this place you're dragging me off to?" Rick grumbled. "You idiots keep crowing about it, so it has to have some significance."

"It sure does." Surgeon Rick casually replied. "But it's more about survival than anything. It's a sanctuary and like, one of the only places left in the multiverse where you can hang out without fear of being hunted down. Kinda wish you'd found out about it sooner, huh?"

"Fuck you..." Rick lowered his head.

"Hey, fuck you back. I don't wanna deal with another grumpy asshole today." The surgeon quipped, but there was no hint of malice in the reply. "Shit's gonna change, you'll see. Your perspective is about to expand, as is your access to all kinds of crazy crap. So much good will come of this that you'll see it was all worth it."

"Keep telling yourself that." Rick narrowed his eyes as he continued to follow. "This is what I meant about the crowing..."

"Why don't you just shut up and give it a chance?" Surgeon Rick's suggestion carried a tone of genuine annoyance; he was becoming fed up. "It's like you haven't even seen it yet and you've already decided that you hate it. Stop being a baby, that's your Morty's job."

Rick flattened his brow; this hadn't even begun and he'd already lost his patience with it. "How long are we even going to be gone for?"

The question made the other stop in his tracks. "Why?"

"Have you ever taken a young kid out somewhere?" Rick grunted in annoyance, though it was more for the fact that he even had to consider something like this. "You need to take half a house worth of supplies with you, otherwise you're gonna have a bad time."

"Oh yeah, I hear you bro." Surgeon Rick nodded in reply. "Doomsday prepping and all that."

"Hey, come on," Rick protested. "Not cool."

"Aw shit..." Surgeon Rick seemed genuinely apologetic and rubbed the side of his head. "Yeah, sorry bro. Insensitive commentary and all that."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't bring it up again." Despite his words, the scientist was grinning now. "Just kidding, I don't care."

"Oh... OK?" Surgeon Rick shook his head, not knowing what to make of what he was hearing. After another moment, he opted for the safer route and just continued to lead the way. "Well, fuck you again."

It was just too amusing and Rick's mood finally started to pick back up; maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Five minutes later, Rick was armed with a backpack full of baby supplies and Surgeon Rick escorted him to the portal hub at the head of the ship. Ricktus was already waiting for them and folded his arms across his chest, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Took you long enough!" He called out the moment he saw them approach, wanting to express his disapproval. "What was the holdup?"

"Best if you don't ask, sir." Surgeon Rick replied in his bored, professional air. "Might I remind you that the assembly meeting doesn't occur until midday in the Citadel's local timezone? I mean, I know you like to be punctual but we have loads of time to dick around at the other end."

"No, you may not." Ricktus glared back at his assistant. "You don't get to decide what we do on the other side."

Surgeon Rick rolled his eyes and decided that it was better to just keep quiet.

"Anyway, Rick," Ricktus diverted his attention towards the scientist. "Not that you've asked, but what you see before us is a great piece of Council-developed technology called a 'portal hub'." He motioned to the device with a hand. "Because this ship is essentially an object moving through space at several hundred miles an hour in Dimension Q-316, you can't just enter a stationary coordinate and expect to come back to the same place. If you entered the one I gave you when I first sent you the summons order, it would dump you out at this spot. You can use it anytime you need to get back here."

"I-I know how a portal hub works! You didn't need to tell me." Rick grumbled. "I used to steal them from the Feds all the time. I backwards engineered them to make my first portal device, though the first ones weren't portable. They also had a nasty habit of randomly blowing up."

"Oh, there's one last thing before we go through..." Ricktus clicked his tongue awkwardly, then glanced at the small, wheeled cart off to his side. "It's necessary, but... you're not going to like it."

"What is it?" Rick narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Ricktus reached across the cart to pick up a pair of electromagnetic wrist cuffs, and then the nerve-inhibition collar that he had used to catch Rick in the first place. "You need to wear these."

Rick glared at the objects with utter contempt. "You... y-you gotta be fucking kidding me..."


	17. The Ricktatorship

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty is a cartoon by Adult Swim. There's really not much more to say. Not my IP, this is fanfiction.

 **NOTE:** Quite a few artistic liberties were taken with this chapter. Because this story exists about 12/13 years behind the show/comic book/game canon, the Citadel of Ricks location is going to be smaller and under construction with intention for future extensions. Also, there's obviously more places that we didn't get to see.

* * *

 _This is gospel for the fallen ones  
_ _Locked away in permanent slumber  
_ _Assembling their philosophies  
_ _From pieces of broken memories_

 _Their gnashing teeth and criminal tongues  
_ _Conspire against the odds_

 _But they haven't seen the best of us yet_

 _\- This Is Gospel - Panic! At The Disco_

* * *

 **Chapter 17 – The Ricktatorship  
**

 **November 27th, 11:05am Citadel Time, 2001  
** **Cross-Temporal Rift Nebula, Location Classified  
** **Citadel Of Ricks, Dimension Number Classified** **  
**

* * *

Just when Rick thought things were finally getting better, the reality of his situation decided to prove him otherwise yet again. After losing a heated argument over the violation of his personal freedoms, Morty had been taken from him so he could be pinned down and shackled. After that, he was shoved through the open portal hub as if he were nothing more than merchandise or cattle. Now he was being escorted down a length of a dark tunnel like a common criminal, and worse, the wrist cuffs and collar actually made him look the part. He wanted to raise a riot about the whole thing but didn't want to set Morty off again. Instead, he opted to glare down at his feet as he trailed behind his captors, just wanting the whole thing to be over and done with.

Morty wasn't faring much better; although he decided not to pitch a fit after being woken up this time, he certainly wasn't going to keep quiet about his feelings on the matter. He clutched at the tails of his grandfather's lab coat with both hands as he did his best to keep up and babbled upset nonsense that almost resembled the word 'no' over and over again. He didn't know where he was or where he was going; he only knew he didn't want to be there either.

His grandson's behavior wasn't pleasant to witness and Rick couldn't pick him up even if he wanted to; his wrists were currently uncomfortably pressed against each together in the cuffs. "You're listening to this, right?" He growled as he motioned down towards the little boy with both hands. "Even Morty wants you to stop. I-I agree with him, get me outta this crap already!"

"Oh, would you cut that out? I'll turn your cuffs off soon, so stop complaining." Ricktus shook his head at the scientist. "Besides, your collar isn't even on, you should be thankful for that. You can't blame me for this one either; the order to keep you under control came from straight from the top. It's partly for show, but mostly to put everyone at ease. An unregistered Rick of your breed and caliber is considered... dangerous."

"Oh yeah?" Rick narrowed his eyes; maybe that was actually true. "Why?"

"Because you're currently the kind of Rick they all fear the most," Ricktus turned his head back towards the other, a serious expression set on his face. "You've got nothing left to lose."

"I see..." Rick returned his attention to the ground, still very much bitter over his current predicament.

"Stop taking this so personally. It's not about you anymore." Ricktus firmly told him. "Things are about to get better for everyone. For you, me, the idiot beside m-"

"Screw you, sir." Surgeon Rick stated, feeling incredibly conflicted himself; he really hadn't wanted to restrain their captive, but orders were orders and now he was concerned that he had fractured a potential alliance before it had even begun. It was utterly stupid and he knew he shouldn't care at all, but it was still there and he couldn't put it out of his mind.

"Oh, don't you start too, C-711." Ricktus warned him. "Now is not a good time for your insubordination." He placed a hand on his forehead and released a sharp, frustrated sigh, returning his attention back towards Rick. "Come on, at least show some degree of interest once we step into the main concourse... this is your future. Don't you want to put the remaining puzzle pieces together? You don't know it yet, but you'll soon grow to like this place. It's going to be your new base of operations, after all. Hell, it might even become your home away from home."

Rick made a soft noise to express his distaste of the suggestion. "I don't have a home, dumbass. Why would I want another one?" He raised his head and although his expression was still quite sour, he was vaguely curious as his gaze drifted up the remaining length of the tunnel; they were finally approaching the end.

Two rather disgruntled-looking Ricks dressed in tidy, white uniforms were standing guard at the far door and holding long-barreled rifles almost as big as they were. When they saw the small group approaching, the one on the left nudged his companion and the both of them cocked their weapons into the fire-ready position, taking aim at them.

"Identify yourselves," the one on the left barked, "or we'll kill you where you stand!"

"Oh, please... you know who I am. I'm Rick Q-316, or whatever, who cares. I'm not really one for titles, but at least look for the badge next time, huh?" Ricktus made a point of tapping his silver pin with an index finger. "I'm responsible for this lot. I am also carrying rather important business to the Council today. You wouldn't want to cause delays, would you?"

The guard on the right's expression was highly suspicious as he looked past the doctor, his attention falling on Surgeon Rick, and then Rick. His gaze lingered on Morty for a moment longer before returning it back to the leader of the group. "Do you have a permit for the unregistered Rick?"

"Do you think I'm an idiot? I wouldn't be here if I didn't." Ricktus pulled two documents from his top coat pocket and flashed them to the guard as he gave him his best unimpressed scowl. "Come on, you're wasting time and I have an appointment to keep. Do you really want to risk pissing off the big boss?"

The guard swore a string of unintelligible curse words and pushed the door open.

"Come," Ricktus raised his right hand to the group behind him and motioned forwards. "Though I advise sticking close by on this occasion. Just judging by the welcome at the door, all six council members are probably already here along with the entire assembly." He stuffed the papers back into his coat pocket. "I guess it's only natural that they've upped their security."

"Yeah," Surgeon Rick mumbled, "because protecting your organization by collecting everyone in one place is always a good idea..."

"Shut up, C-711. I don't see you coming up with any better ideas." Ricktus grunted in reply as he led the way into the wide open space beyond the door. "How are we doing for time?"

Surgeon Rick took out his handheld computer and tapped the screen. "Local timezone clock says 11:07 am. Now would be a great opportunity to rustle up some grub if that's what you're planning, sir."

Rick flattened his brow as low as it would go as he was led on by his captors. His attention was immediately drawn to the surrounding area and he was met with a towering, glass-domed ceiling and a multi-leveled open area that reminded him of the inside of a shopping mall. Almost everything about the place was sterile and unnatural except for the trees placed in large planters; even the gravity and the air quality itself was fake, but at least it was much cleaner and easier to breathe than it had been back on the ship.

His next observation was the giant, golden Rick statue mounted on a pylon in the middle of the concourse; it was simply too big and obnoxious to miss.

"Wow... how narcissistic..."

While the several nearby shop-fronts were intriguing enough all on their own, the scientist found himself staring at two other Ricks nearby, who were putting their all into arguing back and forth at each other. Not far away from them was another group of four Ricks in business suits, all huddled together and obviously involved in some kind of secretive discussion. More Ricks moved through the area around them, all of them looking busy and like they had places to be.

"I guess I should have known..." Rick snorted. "Everyone is me. They're all me. But why?" He paused and raised his eyebrows as he sniffed the air. "And why do I smell churros?"

"Ah... of course. This, my friend, is the Citadel of Ricks, or just the Citadel depending on how lazy you are." Ricktus proudly announced as he raised both hands out to the surrounding area. "This is our headquarters and a sanctuary to the displaced and downtrodden Ricks of the multiverse. It also happens to be the secret meeting place for the transdimensional Council of Ricks."

"You're no friend of mine." Rick growled bitterly. "Council of... o-of Ricks?"

"Yes. Did I stutter? No wait, that was you." Ricktus answered, ignoring his tone. "The Council of Ricks is a governing body that directs and protects all who come here. If you're ever in trouble or need assistance, then you can seek out their help. You have been pulled from the depths of mediocrity because you are 'a Rick of interest'."

"Oh boy, here we go..." Surgeon Rick grumbled.

"No longer will you drift through the depths of space without meaning or purpose," Ricktus continued, his tone still arrogant, "we are going to give you a second chance at life and the opportunity to contribute to something much bigger than you could ever hope to be on your own."

"...and there's the bit." Surgeon Rick folded his arms across his chest.

"You know," Rick told him, "yours was better."

"While you may have lost everything, you'll gain it all back and more. Ricks often stumble across the multiverse for meaning in an otherwise pointless and hollow existence but they find it here." Ricktus was practically beaming with pride now. "The Council assigns them a new purpose according to their strengths and everyone is better off for it. This is our calling, Rick... this is what we were meant to do."

Rick scowled, not finding any reason to agree with him. Though he had said it with such firm conviction that he supposed he must have truly believed his own words.

Ricktus turned back to face the other two. "You're hungry, hmm? That is a good sign. We have time to kill and some paperwork to fill out. At some point I want both of you to go and make yourselves a bit more presentable. Go comb your hair or something, I don't know."

"You want me to iron my lab coat, too!?" Rick hissed the words out. "Maybe that's a little hard because, oh, I don't know... I-I'm still wearing these damn hand cuffs!"

"Stop taking this so personally, B-526..." Ricktus grumbled. "I'm sick of repeating myself."

Rick gritted his teeth and snarled. "Fuck what you think. In fact, fuck you, period! I think I'm gonna go for the untidy, hard-bitten, criminal-scum look because I kinda have a theme going on already, y-you know?" He raised both cuffed hands as if to demonstrate.

"You douchebags OK with going to Ricks?" Surgeon Rick suddenly cut across the conversation in the attempt to steer it in a less-confrontational direction. "They'll cook up pretty much anything you want no matter what time of day it is. Not really sure how they're gonna take the Morty being there, but... eh, whatever."

"Ricks is fine." Ricktus's reply was indifferent. "And who gives a shit what they think of B-526's Morty? He has as much right to be here as anyone else."

Rick raised an eyebrow, finding the words both intriguing and a little puzzling; he couldn't understand why the other would feel so strongly about it. He said nothing, however, and kept following; shutting up meant that he wouldn't have to listen to him as much.

* * *

After arriving at the diner, the group was seated at a table by the shop-front window and Ricktus stood over his captive to disable his wrist cuffs. "There you go, you're free again, at least for now." His voice was almost sympathetic. "Never let it be said that I go back on my word."

Rick took the opportunity to give him a harsh shove while he was still in close proximity, wanting to express the fact he was still sour over how he was being handled. "Get away from me! I-I'm doing what you wanted, so get off my back already!"

Ricktus simply moved back and allowed him the space; if it helped him work out some of his frustration and calmed him down again, then it was probably worth it.

Probably.

"Hey douchebags, use your indoor voices." Surgeon Rick spoke up, sounding annoyed that he even had to bother mentioning it. "The other patrons don't wanna listen to your bullshit and neither do I."

"I have a much better idea, C-711. Why don't you shut up and make yourself useful?" Ricktus took out his wallet and tossed a keycard across the table towards him. "Go order something. We can write this one off as a business expense."

"Well, uh..." Surgeon Rick picked the card up and stared at it, not really knowing what to make of the gesture. "Since when do you pay for anyone else?" He looked back at his boss, then across to the captive Rick. "What the hell do you losers even want, anyway? I can't read your minds."

"Don't really care," Rick growled as he reached down to scoop Morty up in his arms. "But whatever you order, get two of it. Otherwise I'm not going to get any."

Surgeon Rick had to chuckle at the statement. "Yeah, I hear you there, bro. Gotta feed the scavengers, am I right?" He moved off towards the counter.

"So," Ricktus sat down in one of the nearby chairs at the table and watched his captive attentively, wanting to observe his reaction. "What do you think so far?"

"To be honest, the whole setup feels completely unnecessary." Rick admitted as he placed Morty in his lap and idly poked at his wrist cuffs, his mind already working out how to get them off. "I mean, I get that you're all trying to escape from shit, hell... i-if I had known the Galactic Federation was coming for me in full-force like they did, I would have gotten my family out a lot sooner and just bailed on my dimension..." He lowered his head and fixed his gaze on Morty; as much as he didn't want to think about it, he saw no reason to lie about what he would have done differently. "There's nothing wrong with running, but everyone's solution is to just... do nothing and hide out in some secret clubhouse? What's stopping the shit in this dimension from hunting you down here?"

Ricktus grinned at what he was hearing, pleased that Rick's mind was no longer as fixated in the insult of being restrained. "Oh, we're quite safe here, let me assure you. This dimension was specifically created by a Rick for Ricks, and no other life exists in it apart from us. It's also not affected by the sway of a regular dimension; that is, you're not going to spawn another one simply by deciding whether you wanted toast or bagels with your breakfast." He chuckled in amusement. "To think that a Rick exists solely because of such a decision... how mundane."

"Seems like a lot of effort just to hide, no?" Rick raised his right arm and began to prod the locking mechanism on his cuff with an index finger. "Cowering away in a dimension of your own design isn't gonna solve anything. The crap that's trying to kill you isn't going away just because you're hiding somewhere else... e-even I'm planning to get back out there and exact revenge once all this shit is done with."

"I'm glad to hear it, because that's exactly what the Council wants you to do." Ricktus nodded back at him. "And on that note, we're not hiding out here and doing nothing. Sure, we've been beaten. We're licking our wounds, but... we're regrouping. We're going to turn the tide on this mass-Rickxtinction event and you're going to help us lead the way."

"Wait, what?" Rick peered around his wrist and glared at the other. "I said you could pick my brains for intel, but you're starting to make this sound an awful lot like responsibility. Lead the way to what? I'll make this simple for you - I already have too much to deal with," he gently tapped Morty on the head, "and I don't DO leadership. I-I... prefer doing my own thing. I do what I want and fuck everyone else."

"Didn't you already agree to it?" Ricktus leaned back in the chair and stared at his captive, finding his attitude quite concerning to listen to. "The Council has been profiling the countless Ricks of the multiverse for a very specific type and they stumbled upon you. They've been looking for you for a long time."

"Well, then..." Rick snorted. "They're going to be awfully disappointed, aren't they?"

"Rick, please..." Ricktus sighed. "We're being murdered all across the multiverse. Ricks are dying out there and we... we need to do something. We need help, specifically yours." He gave the other a stern expression. "Doesn't it bother you? Not even slightly?"

"No." Rick folded his arms. "Should it? Things die all the time, there's no sense in worrying about it. Who cares?"

Ricktus sank in his chair enough to make his discontentment known. "Well... shit." He took out his small handheld computer and occupied himself with it. "So much for that."

"So this establishment has been around for 'a long time', huh?" Rick turned his attention towards one of the nearby tables which contained two other Ricks chatting over coffee. "Why am I only just learning about it now?"

Before the doctor could answer, his assistant slammed a table number stand down in front of him. "Perfect timing as always..."

"What's up, fuckers?!" Surgeon Rick happily cheered as he sat down in the chair next to his boss. "I hope you're happy. I just ordered enough food to make you all sick."

"Oh, yeah?" Ricktus looked up from his datapad, seeming vaguely interested. "What kind of food?"

"The kind you eat. Duh." Surgeon Rick quipped. He was silent for a moment as he made note of his boss's posture and made a short, frustrated sigh. "Oh great, don't tell me you're in a shitty mood again."

"Hey, C-711... do you want to try and talk some sense into this Rick? I've tried explaining the point of the Citadel and the Council and his intended place in it, but he's... leaning towards non-compliance." Ricktus returned his attention back to his small handheld computer. "They're not going to like this outcome. I guess we should have expected it..." He mumbled several curse words under his breath as he became uneasy. "...has to make everything so damn difficult..."

"Hey, you know what? Let him." Surgeon Rick shrugged. "Fuckin' let him. I kinda thought the whole thing was bullshit at first. So did you, a-and look where we are now." He turned his gaze across the table towards Rick. "Some Ricks take longer to convince than others, and that's totally your right. But at least hear them out before you decide you don't wanna do it, yeah? Get all the facts first, bro."

"Hmm..." Rick couldn't see a reason to argue. "I just... always saw myself as pretty informed. I like to think that I know what's going on, right? So why didn't I know about this place until now?"

"Hey, don't feel too bad about it." Surgeon Rick grinned. "Infinity is a pretty damn big number. Takes time to get all you fuckers on the same page. Besides, the Council picked us off first because we're fucking hopeless and easily persuaded. Like, really... we're low-tier trash Ricks that nobody cares about and it's surprising that we even fall on the curve at all."

"I really wish you wouldn't put it like that..." Ricktus angrily muttered.

"You gotta face the reality of it, boss." Surgeon Rick smirked, seeming way too happy to talk about it. "We suck and our only claim to usefulness is that we're gonna enable Ricks like B-526 to kick ass and blow shit up. We're only auxiliary cogs in a much larger machine, after all."

"A machine doesn't function unless all the parts are working, so I could argue otherwise." Rick huffed at him and was silent afterwards; he wasn't even really certain why he had just said that.

"Wait, what?" Surgeon Rick wasn't going to let it pass and gave Rick a toothy grin. "The hell was that, bro? Have you decided to stop hating us?" He reached into the top pocket of his scrubs and pulled out a Gameboy to start playing with. "I'm glad to hear it because your variables make shit interesting, but I don't need your pity."

Rick leaned back in the chair and sat quietly to process the conversation. When the food arrived, he ate in silence; while waffles weren't his first preference, he certainly wasn't going to turn down a free meal. He soon found himself in the balancing act of feeding Morty with the spoon in his left hand and himself with the right, though his mind was already thinking ahead and trying to guess what was coming next. He supposed he would just have to be patient and wait to find out.

"How are we doing for time?" Ricktus suddenly blurted the words out. He pushed away his own plate and began to fidget with his datapad, seeming nervous and on-edge. "I mean we're here and on time, but... I don't want to turn up late for the assembly."

"Dude, you're staring at your computer. Answer your own damn question." Surgeon Rick looked up at him. "And chill out, huh? You barely touched your food and it was good shit. What's wrong? What the hell are you so worried about?"

"I-I've never done this before," Ricktus admitted. "I mean, sure... we always send our findings and reports straight to the Council, but we didn't have to do anything for the last Rick we got here. They just took him and that was the end of it. This time they're making us stand in front of the entire congregation to present the live retrieval and I don't want to do it. However, it's necessary if we want to get paid."

Rick gave him a dirty look.

"Phh, is that all you're worried about?" Surgeon Rick had to smother a laugh as he went back to playing with his handheld game console. "Just read that stupid thing you wrote. Stand up there, act out that proud, confident bullshit you do to everyone and then let them decide what to do. Simple."

"Do you want to do it?" The doctor offered, his tone hopeful.

"Because I'm not as crazy as you," his assistant teased, "no."

"D-damn..." Ricktus lowered his head again and resumed fidgeting with his computer.

"In what universe did you think that would work, boss?" Surgeon Rick chuckled back at him. "Seriously, you'll be fine. You got this."

"How can you be so calm? You have to get up there, too." Ricktus shook his head in disbelief. "The entire Council is going to be looking down and silently judging us while we look like a couple of fools. I-I can't do this..."

"I got less riding on it than you do," Surgeon Rick told him. "Plus, I don't care. Got so much more important things to worry about, like making all these lines in Tetris. Shit's hard, yo."

"Hey, uh," Rick moved the little boy off his lap and set him in the chair beside him. "Can one of you losers watch Morty for a sec?"

Surgeon Rick looked up from his Gameboy. "You alright, bro?"

"Uh-huh. I just..." Rick moved to his feet and pointed towards the restroom door. "I'll be back." He slipped away without waiting for a reply.

"Weird," the doctor's eyes tracked the other as he watched him leave. "Should we follow that up?"

"Eh, just leave him be. He's got nowhere to run." Surgeon Rick shrugged. "Maybe he just stepped out to take a break from us? Or, you know... needing to use the facilities was legit. Either way, if you disturb him now, you're gonna destroy what little chance you have left of ever earning his respect."

"And why would I want to do that?" Ricktus's tone was suddenly cold. "You know as well as I do that Ricks are self-serving, egotistical assholes. If you had been around to listen to what he was saying earlier, then you would have learned that he's even worse than most of them. As soon as this mess is over, your paths are most likely never going to cross again. Why does it even matter?"

"I dunno, boss. You're always rambling on about needing to fix shit around your ship. Why not that guy?" Surgeon Rick hissed suddenly and mashed the buttons on his handheld game. "Aw, shit!" He set it down onto the table, seeming incredibly disappointed with himself. "Lost again... I'm blaming that one on you for distracting me, seriously."

"I don't think I want him around," Ricktus snorted in disgust. "His personality does not mesh well with mine."

"What's wrong with that?" Surgeon Rick was smug now. "Finally met your match, huh? Looks like you've found somebody who's as big of a dick as you are."

The doctor made his disapproval known with a warning growl and he pulled out the set of documents that he had shown to the guards earlier. "Do me a real solid and shut your damn mouth. You can finish this paperwork while I revise the speech I wrote..." He angrily threw them down in front of his colleague.

"For the last time, you'll do fine." Surgeon Rick took out a pen to begin working. "It's totally cool with me if you need to spend more time freaking out, but just let me know when you're done. You're getting super annoying, dude."

Meanwhile, Morty had noticed Rick's disappearance. He raised his head as he timidly peered across the table in the direction of the two spiky-haired figures that both did and did not resemble his favorite person. While they sounded genuine and were certainly grumpy enough to play the part, something about them was still off. His first sound was a small, uncertain whimper as he looked around the immediate area, but when he couldn't see his grandfather, he made his protests louder, feeling insecure without him.

"Uh... you OK over there?" Surgeon Rick raised his head and locked his attention straight on Morty. "You seem upset about something."

"You idiot," Ricktus hissed at him. "You're talking to a baby. Well, developmentally, he's a toddler, but... he's displaying classic stranger anxiety. His target of attachment is not present and it will end once he returns." He glanced back in the direction of the restroom door, bristling with irritation. "What's taking him so long?"

"Hey, don't rush another man's business." Surgeon Rick shrugged. "Who cares? We still got time."

"Somebody needs to do something before this escalates out of control." Ricktus returned his attention down towards Morty as he put his mind back on track. "Based on my previous clinical notes, this Morty is really good at yelling."

"Six years of medical school for that, huh?" Surgeon Rick did not look up this time. "Astounding. You're a real gift to your specialty field."

Ricktus moved to his feet and crouched next to the youngster's chair, his voice becoming soft as he spoke to him. "Hey there, little guy. Have you forgiven me for what I did to you and the hippie bird woman yet?"

Morty stared at the older male and made a sharp cry of alarm as he backed away.

"I don't advise doing that," the doctor instructed him. "You're going to fall if you go any further. While it wouldn't hurt you too much, you're not going to enjoy the experience and I'm not the Rick you want to pick you up again. I suppose I wouldn't mind it, but it sounds like you've already decided that you don't really tolerate my presence."

"Yeah, look who's talking to a baby now?" Surgeon Rick muttered. "Just don't torture yourself, bro..."

"It's fine." The reply was firm, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. "It's... i-it's fine..."

"Hey, boss. Get a load of this question," Surgeon Rick began to read aloud from the form in the attempt to distract him. "In the event of injuries not compatible with life, how would you like your remains to be distributed?" He paused. "Like, fucking what? Phrasing, anyone? Was this shit on your form, too? What did you put down?"

"To be honest, I don't even remember..." The doctor was silent for a few moments as he pondered what to do with Morty's deteriorating mood. "Give me your muffin."

"Wait, what? N-no!" Surgeon Rick objected. "It's mine!"

"That is a direct order, C-711." Ricktus glared at him, his tone cold and harsh. "Your muffin. Hand it over. NOW."

"Geez," Surgeon Rick grumbled as he pushed it across the table. "No need to be such a hard-ass..."

"Relax, it's for a good cause." Ricktus immediately grabbed it and handed it over to Morty. "I hope you'll consider this an adequate peace offering," he quickly told the little boy, "and a bribe to shut you up."

Morty quietened down as he stared at the strange object and tentatively reached out to grab it. In another moment he had worked out that it was food and hungrily mashed it into his open mouth with both hands.

"Don't choke on that, little guy." Ricktus smirked in amusement. "Don't give your Rick something else to complain about."

As if on cue, Rick made his way back to the table. He narrowed his eyes as he silently eyed off what Morty was doing, then shrugged his shoulders as if indicating that he didn't care. He took his place in the chair he had been sitting in before and picked up his fork to resume eating.

Surgeon Rick looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. "You OK?"

Rick nodded once and stuffed a forkful of waffles into his mouth so he didn't have to make any further reply.

Surgeon Rick's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer; his expression was enough to suggest otherwise. Still, he let it go; it was more than obvious that he didn't want to talk about it, so he wasn't going to push it. "Hey. If you die, what do you want the Council to do with your remains?"

"Don't care." Rick stated as he chewed through the mouthful of food.

"Yeah, doesn't matter once you're dead, right? What about this one?" Surgeon Rick read aloud the next outstanding question on the form. "In the event of irrecoverable injury, how do you want to die?" He hummed in thought. "Yeah, see, this one is actually kinda useful... I haven't actually had to use this data to put down a registered Rick yet, but it's handy to know."

Rick stabbed his fork in another piece of syrupy waffle and actually considered the question seriously. "Short and quick," he answered after swallowing, "and preferably painless. I don't wanna know about it." He offered another piece to Morty, but popped it in his mouth when he realized that the little boy was more happy destroying the muffin he had been given.

"Oh god, please kill me now..." Ricktus sank in his chair, his attention glued to the concourse out the shop-front window. "Whatever you're doing, stop. Shut up and look alive because the boss is coming this way."

"Like, as in the big boss?" Surgeon Rick looked out the window as well. "Holy shit, he is too... I wonder what he's doing out and about this early? Like, why would he even grace this dump with his presence?"

"Watch it, buddy!" A Rick from behind the shop counter roared across the room. "I can hear you over there!"

Ricktus gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white. "Oh god, oh god, I can't do this..." His arms were visibly shaking, but his posture was otherwise stiff and rigid. "Can you get me out of here? I-I... I'm not feeling well..."

"Get your shit together!" Surgeon Rick firmly told him. "I don't do meltdowns, remember?"

Rick raised an eyebrow at the exchange; listening to them bounce off each other was both interesting and perplexing and now he couldn't pick who was supposed to be in charge. He was quickly distracted as six uniformed Ricks marched in through the front door of the diner and stood guard at the sides.

As if on some instinctive cue, everyone was on their feet except for him. An average-sized Rick in neat, white-and-gold robes casually sauntered in through the doorway with an expression on his face that could only be described as pure disdain. He was also wearing one of the same three-pointed star pins with the capital 'R' in the middle that he kept seeing everywhere, though his gleamed with well-polished gold.

Rick would soon learn that this was Riq IV, the spokesperson and mouthpiece for the transdimensional Council of Ricks. The only real noteworthy thing about him was his haircut; his head had been almost comically shaved and he only had three hair spikes – one on top and two at his ears. The only other interesting observation was how much of an effect his presence had on the others around him; everyone just silently stood there like obedient, trained dogs, or perhaps they were sheep. Even the two Ricks who had captured him were totally buying into it.

Rick snorted in disgust and resumed picking at his meal, more concerned over the fact that his waffles were becoming cold and mushy due to absorbing most of the syrup and butter that had come with them.

"Well, well, well... look at this lot." The newcomer looked around the immediate area with disdain. "Why aren't there more of you?"

Nobody answered. Somewhere towards the back of the diner, a Rick made a loud, guttural burp.

"You're supposed to be out there and recruiting, not standing around here like a bunch of fools." The Rick took two calm paces forwards and rested his hands behind his back. "If I had known the turnout was going to be this pathetic, I would have stayed in my own dimension. How many dead this week? Do any of you idiots know?"

More silence. It was only broken again by Morty, who began to cough as he sent slobbery, chewed-up muffin crumbs all down his clothes and across the table in front of him.

"Slow down, buddy... you're going too fast there." Rick told him.

The Rick made a soft hum to express his displeasure and moved across the shop floor, finally stopping beside Rick's chair. "What is this?"

"You tell me," Rick poked at the remains of a waffle with the tines of his fork. "It used to be breakfast. Now it's gross." He picked up a napkin and began to clean the little boy up with it.

Ricktus looked like he was about to die. Surgeon Rick elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Hah!" The Rick was actually amused by the comment and just stood there for a moment as he tried to work out why this Rick would be so indifferent in his presence. Then he saw his wrist cuffs and collar as well as the young Morty sitting beside him and he worked out what was going on. "Ah, so you did get it here alive. I was hoping to see it for myself in its raw, natural form. Impressive... I didn't think either of you scrubs were capable of pulling it off."

"Thank you, sir!" Ricktus beamed with pride at the statement, forgetting all about the fact he was cowering mere seconds ago. "I haven't finished collecting all the data yet, b-but I think you will be most pleased. There's also a major issue we need to take care of, but I think we can fix him if-"

"I don't need your whole life story." The Rick silenced him with a casual wave of his hand. "All I need to know is if you can make it work. I want to keep this one alive."

Rick made a soft, warning growl; it sounded an awful lot like they were talking about him as if he were an object. Even though he had been warned about it in advance, he still didn't appreciate it very much.

"We're... w-we're trying our best for you, sir." Ricktus clasped his hands together and nearly crushed the fingers of his right hand in his nervousness. "We're still not 100% on the diagnosis, but we're hoping things will become predictable soon. We also-"

"Excellent." the Rick silenced him again with another wave. "The Council can provide you with more resources, if that is what you need." He turned his attention down towards the Rick still seated at the table. "Rick... B-526, is it? I can't be expected to remember all of you."

Rick finally looked up at the other, matching his expression with the same disdain he was giving him. "What?"

The Rick needed to stand there for a moment, trying to work out if that had actually just happened. "...I will forgive your transgressions because you are new, but I will not tolerate this behavior again. You do not yet know how things work around here, but you will learn in good time. Either way, it will be most interesting to see how your personality reacts with the others." He turned around and headed for the door. "See that you do not disrespect my presence again. I will see you at the Council meeting shortly."

The guards followed him out. It was only after they were gone that anyone could relax again.

"The fuck was that about?" Rick's tone was harsh as he blurted the question out. "I thought your pompous act was bad enough," he waved his fork at the doctor, "but that guy just took it to eleven. He's not that important, is he? Why do you care so much?"

"Oh... o-oh my god..." Ricktus practically collapsed back into his chair. "That was Riq IV, Rick... he's our boss, a-and he's responsible for everything here. Every Rick that ever was or ever will be a member of the Citadel answers to him." He lowered his head, needing time to calm himself down again. "He's the one who... who gave us the orders to watch you in the first place. By his directive, we captured you and now we are to keep you alive. In a short while, we officially present you to the Council for processing." He leaned forward in his chair and hugged himself around the stomach. "I... I-I can't do this... I'm going to be sick..."

"Agh, I can't take this shit anymore!" Surgeon Rick threw his hands in the air. "Now you're just being a baby!" He snatched up the keycard and took off towards the counter.

Although the waffles had gone completely cold, Rick decided to finish them off anyway; they were still better than all the repeat servings of bland vegetable soup he had been feeding off while he had been stuck on Bird World. He silently watched the Rick's crumbling demeanor beside him and noted that without the proud, confident act he kept putting on, he was almost as pathetic as the assistant he liked to push around. Still, he had no desire to help; he was still very much sour over how he had behaved towards him since they met. Even if he was just another product of the same hierarchy, he was still an asshole.

It was Surgeon Rick who would pull him back to reality; he soon returned with a mug of warm coffee and a muffin. "Here, take this," he set the mug down on the table in front of his boss. "But you're not stealing two muffins from me today. This one's mine."

Ricktus reached out with a shaky hand and took the mug, finally sitting back up to begin sipping on it. "Thanks..." He mumbled, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious and ashamed of himself. "It's times like these that you remind me why I keep you around..." He held it in both hands, his eyes fixed on the surface of the liquid. "You spiked this shit, didn't you?"

"Oh my god, boss!" Surgeon Rick's eyes widened with feigned shock. "What kind of Rick do you think I am?!" A wide grin suddenly grew across his face. "Of course I did."

"So," Rick picked up Morty and set him back in his lap, now that he was done eating. "There's one outstanding thing I keep hearing that you guys gotta fill me in on."

Both Ricks curiously turned their attention towards him.

"What's with this 'B-526' shit?" Rick narrowed his eyes. "You're saying I'm unregistered and you've already allocated me a number? How do you even know that I wanna be part of your secret clubhouse?"

Ricktus nearly choked on his mouthful of coffee. "Please tell me you're kidding!"

"No," Rick shook his head. "What's the BFD?"

"Oh god," the doctor set his mug aside and grabbed the pen that his assistant had been using earlier. "You've been playing with portals for how long and you don't know about their shorthand naming index!?" He picked up a napkin and began hastily scribbling a sequence of numbers down on it. "All you do is remove all the axes and locatives, which leaves you with the designator," he crossed out most of the numbers he had just written, "what you're left with is usually alphanumeric." He slid it across the table. "Your dimension just happens to be B-526. Mine is Q-316, and my assistant's is C-711. How... how do you not know this? This is basic stuff, Rick..."

"Oh... is that all it is?" Rick sounded disappointed as he glared down at the napkin. "Yeah I knew about that, but I just always remembered a location by its coordinate and its dimension by association. I guess naming them was never really important."

"How were you able to tell the difference this entire time?"

"I just archived the whole coordinate in my brain." Rick shrugged. "Not hard because they're all unique. I mean I guess I can see the logic behind naming dimensions like that for the sake of not writing down hundreds of characters, but... whatever."

"It's not so useless. Think of it this way - referring to Ricks by their dimension number makes sense." Ricktus picked his mug up again and took a long sip, savoring the taste. "When everybody in the Citadel has the same name, 'Rick' becomes less of an identity and more of an abstract concept."

"Is that why you have a stupid name?" Rick paused. "Don't think I'm ever going to call you that, by the way."

"Phh, it's not stupid, but yes." The doctor nodded slowly. "I did it to stand out and to be different. Some of us use our dimension index to refer to each other, while some prefer adding a title or a profession to the front, like this one here." He pointed to his assistant. "You should consider your own standout name or title, because there are about forty other generic Ricks in the Citadel who look just like you, save for that... why did you do that to your haircut?"

"What haircut? It's a comb-over." Rick grumpily ran a hand through his flopped-over spikes. "I'm going bald."

"Is that a new development?" Ricktus raised his eyebrows. "Hair loss is a rather reliable symptom of radiation exposure. I hope you added it to the data."

"No," Rick grumbled bitterly. "I can assure you that it's been happening for a very, very long time."

"Hey, I wouldn't even bother with that one." Surgeon Rick suggested and gave his own hair an experimental tug. "Most of us are going bald. Can't escape genetics, y'know?"

Ricktus leaned back in his chair, the sense of uneasiness returning as he pondered the conversation; this Rick was simultaneously switched-on and clueless and he wondered what other things he didn't know about. He had even less of an idea why the Council wanted this one alive so badly.

* * *

As the time edged closer towards midday, more and more members of the Citadel began to filter into the Council chambers. The doctor and his small group of three proceeded along with them, though he elected to stay towards the back of the congregation along with the other Ricks who were presenting official business at the meeting. He began to nervously pace in small circles around his captive, checking him over for minor things he could fix in the immediate.

Rick made a point of glaring at the others gathering around him, annoyed by the fact they were openly staring at him and the little boy at his side. He hissed when the lapels of his lab coat were readjusted, which turned into a growl when his electromagnetic cuffs were reactivated and his wrists uncomfortably clacked back together. "Hey, what the fuck?!" He yelped. "A little warning next time?"

"I've already explained this to you... I don't want to, but it's a necessary precaution." Ricktus told him. "If you are compliant, then I won't have to turn your collar on. You can manage that for a little while, yes?"

"Whatever..." Rick rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the room around him.

If the concourse had been gaudy enough, then the Council Chambers certainly put it to shame; the room was completely circular and just about every surface was lined with gold. Even the walls, the podium up the front, and the trees themselves were gold - perhaps they had been specifically planted to add to the theme or genetically engineered that way; he couldn't tell.

The members of the Council filed into the chamber and a murmured hush fell over the assembly as they each took their respective seats on the podium at the head of the room.

"Oh boy, this is my favorite part!" Surgeon Rick enthusiastically whispered across to his charge. "Did anyone tell you who they are yet?" He paused but didn't bother waiting for an answer. "Learn their names, because you're probably gonna be working with at least one of them soon." He pointed to the beginning of the line. "Guy on the far end is Rick Prime, Dimension A-0001. He's the first one we all came from. Rumor has it that it all started on the day his mom asked if he wanted to wear the blue or the yellow shirt."

"That's..." Rick screwed his face up in disbelief. "H-how utterly stupid..."

"Yeah, totally Rickdiculous, am I right?" Surgeon Rick pointed to the next one down the line. "Next up is Quantum Rick, he's the one responsible for spawning this dimension. He also does a fuckton of calculations and shit, I think? I dunno... whatever." He dismissed it in another instant. "The two in the middle are Maximums Rickimus and Zeta Alpha Rick, both super-important guys. Guy next to him is Ricktiminus Sancheziminius and word has it that the only reason he sits on the Council is because of corruption and blackmail."

"You can't prove that!" Another Rick nearby hissed at him, having overheard the conversation.

"Suck it, douchebag!" Surgeon Rick promptly retorted, ignoring him a second later. "Guy on the end is Riq IV. You've met him already, but the boss and I answer to him. He's always kinda mad about something, but nothing will earn his ire faster than Rickicide. He simply refuses to tolerate that shit. Expect to find yourself on trial if that happens."

"Why would I ever wanna do that!?" Rick snapped back. "How would that benefit me?!"

"Hypothetical you, not actual you. Chill, dude." Surgeon Rick sighed. "Just remember - these guys are awesome. Respect the Council of Ricks. Do that, and you'll go far here."

Rick raised an eyebrow, not really finding any good reason to agree; as far as he was concerned, the Ricks on the podium were as average-looking as any of the Ricks around him, save for their tacky robes and ridiculous-looking haircuts.

The meeting began without incident; the first couple of Ricks presented their business and findings to the Council and disappeared into the crowd again. A third broke through the line as he took to the floor in a fluster, looking very upset.

"The entity is coming!" He raised his voice to the whole congregation, fervently looking around as if he were still being pursued. "We all need to start running before it finds us!"

"Do you want me to shoot him?" One of the Guard Ricks in the back asked.

"No, I'll allow him to continue." Riq IV gave a short wave of his hand. "I-UURRPP want to see where this goes."

The Rick settled slightly once he realized he had everyone's attention. "The entity, it comes for you. It found me in my dimension, so d-don't think it won't find you in yours!" He cried out to the gathering. "It consumes everything it touches... it was like, a-a... a sentient, gaseous formation. First it ate the moon, then Earth, and then the Milky Way itself. I barely escaped, but... i-it probably devoured half my universe by now!"

"Bullshit!" A taunt came from the crowd. "There's no such thing as sentient gas!"

"Yeah, you made that up!" Another Rick joined in. "The only gas you all have to worry about is what's comin' outta my ass after taco night!"

A wave of collective groans and laughter echoed through the Council chamber as more than half of the congregation joined in.

Riq IV got up unhurriedly and stretched in boredom, regarding the crowd with the same air of disdain he had given everyone back in the diner. "SILENCE!" He bellowed the thunderous command, his stern, icy expression demonstrating that he wasn't going to tolerate another outburst. "You will all shut up and let this inane fool finish!"

Everyone quietened down again and all eyes were back on the Rick in the middle of the room.

"What do you suggest we do about it?" Riq IV sat down again and steepled his fingers as he regarded the Rick's story. "You're quite safe while you remain here."

"I don't know," the Rick suddenly responded. "Kill it?"

Riq IV's brow flattened; he had obviously been through this routine before. "With what?"

"With... with a really big gun?" The Rick suggested.

"Ugh, I've heard enough." Riq IV pointed towards the exit doors. "Get this idiot out of my sight. Go pick his brains and see if this story actually has any merit." He sighed with boredom. "Next."

"You can't be serious!" The Rick yelped at the Council as he was dragged away by a pair of guards. "The entity is going to consume us all and you're just sitting there!? You're all going to die!"

"Yeah," a Rick in the crowd chimed in, "we already know! Everything dies eventually!"

"Is this... is this normal?" Rick whispered across to his captors as the next Rick took the center stage and began to tell his story. "The whole thing seems like a goddamned circus."

"It's very normal, unfortunately." Ricktus groaned. "The Council is prepared to sit through all the bullshit stories if at least one of them is credible. It wastes a lot of time, but it's valuable if you learn something useful. Preparedness makes us powerful."

"You know who said that, right...?" Rick scowled.

"I'm well aware..." Ricktus replied.

As the Rick finished up his current account, Ricktus began to nervously fidget with his datapad again, hoping his speech was good enough for the Council. He jumped slightly after being elbowed by his assistant and he stared at the floor in front of him, wishing it would just swallow him up whole.

"Next." Riq IV's bored voice boomed out across the floor.

"You're up, boss." Surgeon Rick shoved him forwards. "Just get in there and do the thing. You got this."

"I-I don't want to!" Ricktus protested.

"Just do it, bro. It's too late now!" Surgeon Rick shoved him again and moved out into the open space with him. "Relax, you'll do just fine."

The doctor clumsily stumbled into the center area and clutched at his datapad to stop it from falling. He stared up at the Council members on the podium and his gaze quickly drifted across to all the Ricks expectantly staring at him from all over the room. "Shit, shit, shit..."

Surgeon Rick gave him a wide, encouraging grin and two thumbs up.

"I, uh... hi there," Ricktus tensed up now that he everyone's attention, "I, uh... R-Rick of Dimension Q-316 and my colleague, Rick C-711 would like to present a... a rather concerning issue to the council for consideration." He exhaled a heavy, nervous sigh as he mentally steeled himself, then launched straight into what he had written down. "A few weeks ago, the Council presented us with a particularly interesting Rick in a predicament... a Rickdicament so to speak." He motioned towards his captive. "It was difficult to get to this point, but... here he is. I would like to officially present the Council with our third live capture, and what may possibly become one of the most successful products of Project Rickdemption to date – meet Rick B-526."

Rick rolled his eyes; the Rick puns he kept hearing were becoming tiring. He stepped forwards, Morty timidly following at his heels.

"What I'm saying to you all is that we can learn from this Rick's experiences and do our best not to repeat them," Ricktus continued, his eyes glued to the handheld computer as he read from it. "I am here to present him to you as a cautionary tale, and so you can learn from his experiences. This Rick's reality is an example of what will happen if we allow ourselves to stagnate and if we allow our own choices to consume us."

"Wait, wait, wait..." Rick waved both hands as if to stop him. "What?"

The doctor didn't seem to hear him. "While this particular Rick seems relatively generic compared to what we have seen so far, he becomes interesting once we examine his variation parameters and areas of expertise outside of his educational background." He paused to scroll down the screen. "You see, this Rick also happens to be a wanted felon in his dimension and there is a heavy ransom on his head. He is an intergalactic terrorist as well as an illegal arms dealer. Some even call him 'The Destroyer of Worlds'."

"Hey, not cool," Rick was suddenly uncomfortable. "None of that is meant to be public knowledge..."

"This Rick has seen it all," the doctor continued, seeming to relax a little now that he was properly getting into it. "The Galactic Federation motherships, their hierarchy, possibly even the inner workings of their society itself. He has already agreed to provide us with knowledge so it would be prudent to ask him how their social caste structure works for the betterment of us all."

Rick furrowed his brow as he glanced around at the congregation; all eyes were on him and he didn't like it. At least nobody was trying to taunt him so far.

"As you are all aware, Ricks have a very distinctive and traceable brainwave pattern due to our genius. For some reason, this one didn't once think to consider that after destroying a monumental amount of Federation lives and property. He retreated to planet Earth in dimension B-526 for... how long was it?" Ricktus paused, shrugging when he decided it wasn't important. "This Rick couldn't face his own inadequacies and insecurities, so he left his wife and family, only to return to it years later out of guilt. To make matters worse, they actually accepted him back into their lives."

"Wait..." Rick's eyes widened upon hearing that information. "What? Where are you going with this...?"

Surgeon Rick raised an eyebrow at him. "Hey, uh... boss?"

"Shut up!" Ricktus quickly snapped and continued on with his speech. "I've never seen a Rick who cares so much about his family, but that's where his problems began. He stayed in one place too long and allowed himself to be discovered, and through his own complacency came his downfall. Using his own brainwaves against him, the bureaucrats used them like a beacon to track him to his front doorstep."

Rick lowered his head, his mind reeling; so THAT was how they found him. He had already known that it was his fault all along, but what he was hearing only confirmed it.

Surgeon Rick gritted his teeth. "Uh, hey... you OK there?"

Rick did not respond and stared downwards, his shoulders trembling. He felt like he was imploding. He was also feeling nauseated now and regretted eating so much earlier.

Ricktus didn't seem to notice what was happening and continued. "He tried running, but it was ultimately useless. They took it all away from him in an act of karmic retribution, just as he had done to them." He skimmed over a paragraph he had written, deciding it wasn't important either. "As a direct result of this event, this Rick has likely been poisoned by plasma radiation. It would be beneficial for the Council if we could continue to document this." He looked up at the podium expectantly.

"I'll allow it," Riq IV yawned. "Continue."

"Because of the events on this Rick's timeline, we can learn from his mistakes. We might even be able to finally turn this multidimensional, Rickicidal-epidemic event on its head." Ricktus began to nervously pace across the floor in front of the podium. "I know for a fact that this Rick will be able to provide you all with detailed accounts of the planetary-vitrification process, and possibly intel on how to prevent other catastrophic events from occurring on our own timelines... perhaps he might even be able to provide clues on how we can go about dismantling the Galactic Federation itself."

A tense uneasy murmur fell over the congregation; it was a bold claim and they all knew it.

The doctor ignored them. "This Rick knows everything, even if it cost him dearly. I hope that you will find him interesting enough to accept into our ranks." He scrolled to the bottom of his speech and kept reading. "If that happens, I would like to request that the members of the Citadel please treat this Rick with all the respect and dignity that is due, as he has unwittingly taken a rather hard fall on our behalf. Please afford this Rick your shelter until he is able to find his way again. He has been displaced. The Council protects their own, do they not?"

"Whoa, back the fuck up!" A Rick from the middle of the crowd suddenly barked out. "I'm gonna call bullshit... how do we know this isn't some elaborate story to make yourselves sound important? I-is it actually true?"

"It is..." Rick's voice broke slightly as he spoke in a low, defeated voice. "Y-you... you have no idea how much I wish it wasn't..."

"Hey, is that a Morty?" Another Rick called out. "Is it for sale? I'll give you three million credits for it!"

"What bullshit! That's a lowball offer and you fucking KNOW IT!" Ricktus suddenly roared back at him, his words carrying immense insult with them. "The last Rickless Morty went for at least four, a-and that one still has a Rick! Where do you get off with such audacity?!"

"I'll give you five mil," a Rick waved a keycard above his head. "And my apartment on the Citadel spire."

"Wow..." Surgeon Rick whistled impressively. "That's actually a pretty good offer. You gonna take it, bro?"

Rick wasn't paying attention.

Everyone began to chatter at once, and in no time at all, the room had erupted into a series of outrageous bids being yelled back and forth, along with the dull roar of everyone talking over the top of each other at the same time.

Riq IV rose to his feet and tried to call the crowd to order. "Quiet!"

"Somehow, I don't think B-526's Morty is for sale, so why don't you just crawl back to the dimension you came from, buddy?!" Ricktus bellowed back at another Rick in the crowd, positively incensed by now. "Who do you think you are?!"

"All of you, shut UP! NOW!" Riq IV's harsh command cut across the cacophony. "You're behaving like children! There are official protocols and guidelines in place before reassigning a Morty, and all of you should know them!" He sat back down and folded his arms across his chest. "This isn't a damn street market." He gave a wave of his hand once the crowd had fallen silent again. "Continue."

"Thank you, sir." The doctor coughed deliberately to draw attention back to himself. "If it would please the Council, I would like to be reimbursed for the time spent on this successful live retrieval, and to receive substantial credit towards my own goals. This is not some ordinary, generic Rick and you should not treat him like one, nor should we be paid like he is. We need to register him and gather his intel right away."

"Fine." Riq IV glared down at the small group. "I'll allow it if that is what he wants." He leaned forward slightly. "What say you, Rick B-526? Do you consent to being registered so you can assist the Council with inquiries?"

Rick didn't answer; his attention was on his cuffs, which were making noises as the metal parts lightly clanked against each other. He was shaking, but he wasn't even aware of it. He could hear the beat of his heart pounding in his ears and his vision started to waver. His stomach was violently churning and he was certain that if he moved a single inch in any direction, he would surely throw up everywhere. His only priority was to keep his head down and hold himself together so that he wouldn't crumble apart in front of the entire assembly.

"Hmm," Riq IV leaned back in his chair again. "At least he knows how to shut up, which is more than I can say for the rest of you." He raised his head, sneering in disgust at the sight of the cowering Rick before him on the floor. "Ugh, someone get that pathetic idiot out of here before he embarrasses himself. Bring all involved parties to my private chambers. We can discuss the issue in further detail there." He huffed. "Next."

Two Guard Ricks appeared to escort Rick away from the assembly. He did not put up a fight and simply followed along with them. A third Guard Rick came up behind them and grabbed up Morty, who immediately objected with a loud, ear-piercing wail.

Surgeon Rick frowned with concern as he watched Rick's body posture and behavior. "Can... we have some words, boss? Candidly, I mean."

"Uh, sure?" Ricktus blinked in confusion. "You normally have no problem speaking candidly, hell... sometimes it's borderline insubordination. What's stopping you now?" He nodded ahead of them. "We might as well follow them. It seems like the big boss wants to do more with this one."

"Y-yeah, seems like it..." Surgeon Rick stated, the conflicted, uneasy feeling creeping back up on him again.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I think that went rather well." Ricktus breathed a relieved sigh once they had walked out of the Council chambers. "You were right. As soon as I got in there, I was fine."

"Oh, it went well, did it?" Surgeon Rick angrily thrust his hands into his pockets as he paced along the concourse beside him. "And you're fine? Good for you, huh...?"

"What's gotten into you all of a sudden?" Ricktus raised an eyebrow. "What crawled up your ass?"

"Dude, speaking candidly here. Did you... did you like, even run any of that speech by him first?" Surgeon Rick nodded ahead of him, motioning towards the captive Rick. "It's like he was hearing it all for the first time." He made a sharp, frustrated sound. "It's like he... he didn't even know what was happening. Were you watching? He didn't like the fact that you put his entire life on show, but that part was unavoidable I guess."

"It happens to us all when we first get here." Ricktus replied in a quiet voice. "That wasn't my decision."

"Look," Surgeon Rick was hesitant now. "I-I go with a lot of stupid choices you make, even if I don't agree with them. It goes with the territory, but... the one you made just now was... seriously fucked up, bro."

"What do you mean?"

The surgeon let out a tense breath. "I don't... I don't think that Rick had a fucking clue how the Feds found him. At all." He shook his head. "The only way he found out was because he was forced to stand there and listen to you. I-if I didn't know any better... I'd say you just broke him."

"I, ah..." Ricktus stopped in his tracks. "Oh shit."

"Yeah, you get my drift now?" Surgeon Rick stopped in front of him. "Did you even think to tell him beforehand? No? You were so damn self-absorbed in not screwing up and making yourself look good that you screwed up anyway." His tone was suddenly harsh and scolding. "And you just screwed up HARD, brother. I hope you're prepared to deal with the fallout. You want that Rick alive? Yeah, well, good fucking luck now."

Ricktus's face fell in the realization of his assistant's words. "I, ah... I-I may not have told him any of that, come to think of it..."


	18. A Rick To Live By

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty is a cartoon by Adult Swim. Not my IP, this is fanfiction. Don't sue me, I'm just a broke fan.

 **NOTE + Warning:** Another Citadel chapter. Got so big I decided to break it up into two parts. Suicide is also a topic of discussion in this one, so please be aware if you find such material distressing. Also be aware that drug dealing (no usage) is in this chapter.

* * *

 _Stop crying like you're home and think about the show  
_ _We're all playing the same game, laying down alone  
_ _We're unknown and wrong, special when I come  
_ _Hate will make you cautious, love will make you glow_

 _Make me feel the warm, make me feel the cold  
_ _It's written in our story, it's written on the walls_

 _This is our call, we rise and we fall_

 _\- Reality - Lost Frequencies_

* * *

 **Chapter 18 – A Rick To Live By  
**

 **November 27th, 2:24pm Citadel Time, 2001  
** **Cross-Temporal Rift Nebula, Location Classified  
** **Citadel Of Ricks, Dimension Number Classified** **  
**

* * *

Sitting outside the door of Riq IV's private chambers reminded the scientist of all the times he had been forced to wait outside the principal's office at school when he was a child. Although the events between then and now certainly weren't the same, he still felt the same deep-rooted contempt for authority and couldn't see any worthwhile reason why he had to wait for this person. He didn't know what made him so important, other than the fact that everyone else in the place seemed to hold him up on a pedestal.

Rick had been led out of the assembly, across the concourse of the Citadel, and into a high-rise building in the middle. After that, they had led him into an elevator that ascended many levels high above the rest of the structure. Not that he had been paying attention to any of it; the guards escorted him the entire way while he was still in the middle of his meltdown. His mind was off in another galaxy and his body was still in shock.

The guards had since sat him down on a bench outside what was little more than a plain office door, and then they had set him up with a bucket, which now sat squarely between his legs on the floor. While he certainly felt nauseated enough that it was necessary to have there, he hadn't felt the need to use it yet.

The same four words repeated over and over in his head, tormenting him.

" _It was my fault..."_

His mind was still reeling; Rick had already known that the Galactic Federation had vitrified his planet just to spite him and teach him a lesson about destroying so many lives and property, but the information he had received during the assembly only gave him the actual proof to go along with it. He buried his face in his hands and leaned forwards, his body trembling; it was as if a deep wound had been reopened and now he was hemorrhaging fresh pain all over again. It felt as raw as the moment it had happened and he hated himself for not being able to move on.

"It was my fault..."

He nearly jumped a foot in the air when he felt the gentle, reassuring hand on his back. He reflexively recoiled away and promptly retreated across the bench he was sitting on, kicking over the bucket in the process.

"Hey, uh... didn't mean to get that reaction. I should have just announced I was here, right? Sorry, bro." Surgeon Rick cautiously sat down on the same bench not too far away, allowing him some space. "You wanna talk about it?"

"N-no..." Came the immediate response. No thought was needed whatsoever; Rick didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think, period. He had a harsh desire to drown everything out with alcohol, not that he could because his wrists were still bound together. Then he realized he didn't know where the bag he packed for Morty was or where Morty himself was for that matter; he couldn't hear him anywhere nearby.

"That's good." Surgeon Rick admitted. "Because I don't wanna hear about it." He took the Gameboy out of his pocket and resumed playing. "It's no problem to me if you don't wanna talk, but at least know I'm here for you, OK?"

Rick made a soft noise in disgust. "I... I-I don't need your pity."

"Not giving it," Surgeon Rick gently assured him. "I'm just here to make sure you don't do anything stupid."

Rick heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor nearby and he raised his head towards the source of the noise; Ricktus was pacing up and down the same five feet of floor, his head lowered, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

"T-the... the fuck is his problem...?"

"Oh, don't mind him." Surgeon Rick reached into his pocket and took out another game cartridge to slot into the back of the Gameboy. "He's probably about to get fired."

"WHAT?!" Ricktus exploded in a state of emotion that was an even mix of rage and panic. "What the fuck is your problem, and how dare you even suggest that!?" He stomped towards his assistant and smacked the handheld game out of his hands. "You're forgetting yourself an awful lot lately! I know my place! It's high time you remembered yours!"

"Hey man, what the FUCK?!" Surgeon Rick clambered for the device, only to cringe when it hit the floor. "That was on loan from my kid! Sh-she's gonna be awfully pissed if she finds out you broke it!" He gave his boss a harsh shove and moved off the bench to pick it up and inspect the damage. "Shit, bro... I'm not the one responsible for this fuck-up. Don't take it out on me!"

Ricktus actually seemed to regret the action but merely corrected his posture, too proud to bother apologizing. He moved away once more and resumed his agitated pacing. "It's not a fuck-up. We followed the order just as instructed. I'm not going to get fired."

Surgeon Rick carefully loaded the batteries back into the Gameboy and closed the lid. He flicked the power button on and off but nothing happened. "Ah shit! You've gone and fucked it!"

"I'll get you another one," Ricktus replied in a subdued tone. "Or you could try taking out the cartridge and blowing on it like everyone else does."

Surgeon Rick took a moment to entertain the suggestion, but when nothing happened he erupted into his own fit of anger. "You fuckin' broke my daughter's Gameboy, dude! You're disgusting!" He reared his arm back and pitched it at his boss. "Y-you you could have made the same point without touching it!"

The doctor flinched as the device struck him in the shoulder, but he was not willing to escalate the issue any further; he knew he'd already taken it too far - he was always so good at doing that. "I'll replace it later."

"Can you both just... shut up?" Rick mumbled through the heated exchange. "I-I don't wanna listen to this... you're both arguing like children."

"You're right." Ricktus replied with a short nod and was silent again.

"Where's Morty...?" Rick sat up again; despite the fact he was mentally destroying himself all over again about ruining his grandson's life, he still wanted to know if he was safe.

"Don't actually know," Surgeon Rick seemed to calm again as he answered and sat back down on the bench. "I saw one of the Guard Ricks take him away. You may as well ask the big boss where he went when he hauls you into the office. Wonder what he wants with you?"

"I... I-I have no idea..." Rick hunched forwards again. "I just wish he'd hurry up and get on with it so I can leave..."

"I don't know if they'll let you leave like that," Ricktus spoke up suddenly. "In that state of mind, I mean."

"What...?" Rick looked up a second time to glare at him. "I've done everything you wanted! Get me outta here... give me back my portal gun already. Y-you... you can't keep me on the hook forever!"

"I really can't," Ricktus sounded incredibly conflicted and turned away. "But the orders were to keep you alive and well by any means necessary, even if that means keeping you safe from yourself."

"Oh, not THAT again!" Rick protested, feeling his anger rising; it was an easy emotion for him to fall back on as well an effective cover. "Why do you keep bringing that up?! That's over and done with, t-this is fucking bullshit!"

Before any more could be said, an entourage of Guard Ricks marched up the corridor, accompanied by the entire Council of six. Two guards immediately took their posts on either side of the door to Riq IV's private chambers while the others moved away to stand watch nearby. At the head of the Council was Riq IV, who casually stepped forward and regarded the small group of three with a disapproving scowl before unlocking the door and ushering his fellow councilmen and one of the guards inside.

"You scrubs are to stay outside until you are needed." Riq IV's command was aggressive as he glared at Surgeon Rick and Ricktus, respectively. "Have the anomaly brought into my office." He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Rick was immediately prodded in the shoulder with the barrel of a rifle and he turned his head away. He was prodded a second time and responded with a loud growl, refusing to budge.

"Dude, don't keep him waiting." Surgeon Rick frowned. "The big boss isn't unfair, but he doesn't have any patience at the best of times. You're gonna set a bad impression right off the bat."

"Mmm... m-maybe I don't care..." Rick replied, his expression turning dark. "I-I never asked for any of this."

"Just go, man." Surgeon Rick sighed in frustration; even though his charge's pain was open enough to observe, his stubbornness was just as easily visible. "You wanna get this over with? The sooner you stop fucking around and get in there, the sooner you can leave."

Rick moved to his feet after seeing the logic in the statement and finally allowed himself to be led inside the office.

Surgeon Rick released another heavy sigh and bumped his head back against the wall behind him once he heard the door close again. "Fuckin' hell, what a day..."

"I know, right?" Ricktus picked up the discarded Gameboy and carefully set it down beside him. "This one was a considerable amount of effort, but we're nearly done. You'll have forgotten all about this within the week."

"You think...?" Surgeon Rick placed a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes. "Maybe not, bro. The retrieval order kept emphasizing his importance, so like... maybe we'll see him around? I dunno. Feels bad, man..."

"What do you mean?" Ricktus raised an eyebrow.

"It's just that, well..." Surgeon Rick was hesitant to speak his mind after what had happened earlier. "I-I kinda feel like we've sent this Rick to his death."

"The objective was to get him here alive, C-711." Ricktus hovered nearby for a moment, then paced away again. "We've done that. It's up to the Council to decide what to do now. All we have left to do is negotiate our retrieval fee and then we can move onto the next one. This is just another day. Throw another starfish back into the ocean, so to speak."

"That's so dumb." Surgeon Rick grunted. "It's just, the biggest issue I have is... we held him in quarantine more than long enough to get him informed, but when did we? When did we, boss? We didn't. We failed him."

"We didn't fail anyone. We got him here alive and we did our job to the letter." Ricktus turned on his heels and headed back towards him. "Stop investing your emotions into this damn project, C-711. You're only going to keep hurting yourself."

Surgeon Rick made a soft sigh and put his head down; as much as he didn't want to admit it, his boss was right.

"You're never going to see him again. And if you invest yourself into the next live one? You're only going to get hurt again when that one leaves, too." The doctor finally stopped to stand over him and adopted a tall posture of superiority. "We can't afford to care about them. We need to keep treating this clinically. You would do well to remember that."

"Man, it's so much easier when they're already dead..." Surgeon Rick shook his head. "What do you think that Rick's gonna do once he gets his freedom back, knowing what he knows now, boss?" He formed his hand into a gun and pointed his index and middle finger straight to his temple. "He... h-he's gonna blow his fuckin' brains out... I know I would. This is my fault as much as it is yours."

"I'm well aware of where that Rick's mind is right now, but it's within everyone's best interests to prevent anything drastic from happening." Ricktus scowled, his tone becoming firm and resolute. "You need to stop assigning blame. Take a step back and remind yourself that you don't kill them, all we do is end their suffering. It is the enemy's fault, not yours. And ultimately, the point of this place is to halt that as well."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Surgeon Rick grumbled as he reached across the bench to place his broken Gameboy back into the top pocket of his scrubs. "So what do you think they want with him?"

Ricktus sighed in exasperation and turned away to walk back down the hallway. "I only follow the instructions, C-711. I don't presume to know what happens afterwards."

"What do you think happened to his Morty?"

"I don't know!" Ricktus sharply retorted in frustration.

"Hey, keep it down!" One of the guards next to the office door relaxed his stiff, attentive posture slightly. "Which one of you is C-711?"

Surgeon Rick raised his head, giving him a suspicious glance. "Who's asking?"

The Guard Rick set his gun aside and cautiously approached him. "D-5712 is... you got candy?" The question was barely above a whisper as he sat down beside him.

Surgeon Rick's eyes widened as he was taken off guard and quickly covered for it with a hard, icy scowl. "I-I have no idea what you're talking about..."

"Come on, dude." The guard tried to encourage him with a gentle nudge of his elbow. "Ain't nobody here but us silvers. Not trying to pull a bust on you either, I'm not an undercover narc. This is a legit candy request. I got a huge party later and I'm looking to impress my crew. Hook a brother up?"

"Ugh..." Surgeon Rick awkwardly glanced up and down the hallway; his boss was less than five feet away and he already knew where this was going. "...what you need?"

"Rock candy if you got it," the Guard Rick replied in a hushed tone. " Hell, I'd even buy it crushed as long as it's not cut."

Surgeon Rick surreptitiously reached into his top coat pocket. "I'm carrying four crystals, but they're for personal use, so... it's gonna cost ya."

"You know, my eyesight might be poor, but my hearing certainly isn't!" Ricktus turned around to glare hard at the pair. "I really wish you wouldn't conduct this kind of business right outside the Council's door!"

The Guard Rick shook his head at the doctor. "You know C-711 supplies to Sancheziminius, right?"

"Hey, not cool..." Surgeon Rick protested. "That was meant to be a secret."

"Chill, everybody already knows. But because it's him, nobody wants to do anything. Corruption goes all the way to the top." The Guard Rick was silent for a moment. "What's your rate?"

"Hmmm..." Surgeon Rick went quiet, torn between getting a lecture and a good rate on his product. "75 council credits each. Or I can do all four for 300 in cash. You got non-sequential hundred-dollar bills?"

The Guard Rick took out his wallet. "Sure do, buddy."

Ricktus's eyes widened and he visibly bristled with anger. "You said you were never going to do that again! I thought you were better than this!"

"Shh!" The Guard Rick feverishly waved a hand at him. "Keep it on the down low, the whole section doesn't need to hear you."

Ricktus stomped away in disgust. In less than five seconds, a wad of notes and four sealed pouches of pink crystals were exchanged. The Guard Rick stuffed them into his uniform and briskly disappeared down the hallway. The other guards didn't seem to notice or care and continued to stand watch at their respective posts.

Surgeon Rick tucked the cash into his scrubs and lowered his head after the deal was done, a mixture of shame and dread; he knew what was coming next. When he felt the presence of his boss standing over him again, he did not look up.

"Where did you get the kalaxian crystals?" Ricktus's tone was stern and he sounded hauntingly like a parent scolding his own child. "Please don't tell me you're back at stealing the pharmaceuticals from the ship! We've been over this... don't break my trust again!"

"I-I quit a long time ago." Surgeon Rick promptly tried to cover for the fact he'd just been caught out. "I just sell the stuff now."

"You're such a bad liar, C-711. Do not insult me by trying again." Ricktus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Personal use? I heard you, idiot! What were you thinking!? How long have you been back at it? You're going to kill yourself one day!"

"Hey, don't judge! I-I wasn't gonna use it." Surgeon Rick tried again. "That cash will keep my family fed for a week. Lizabeth is gonna ask me for financial assistance again soon, I just know it."

Ricktus sank down next to him on the bench. "If that's actually true, then you should tell her to source her own income. Start saying 'no' a lot more."

"Can't. Lizabeth is still in college and her Jerry is unemployed. I'm the only one keeping them from defaulting on the mortgage and the cash injections are the reason the grandkids get fed at all." Surgeon Rick placed his head in his hands. "Family obligations suck, yo..."

For once, the doctor couldn't see a reason to disagree with him.

"So," Surgeon Rick attempted to change the subject. "What do you think is happening in there?"

"Oh, for..." Ricktus finally snapped at him. "For the last time, I don't fucking know!"

* * *

Rick was seated at an oval-shaped table in the middle Riq IV's spacious private chambers. If it were meant to be for business or personal affairs, he couldn't tell; the room's furnishings were an even blend of office furniture and the same things one would expect to find in a lounge room. Opposite him were seated five members of the transdimensional Council of Ricks, while Quantum Rick was at a free-floating, holographic whiteboard nearby, his mind buried in a massive set of equations that covered most of the visible surface.

The scientist found himself self-conscious and incredibly agitated; the seated Council members were all openly watching him as if taking him in or sizing him up. Not a single word was spoken as looks were exchanged, though it was Rick who finally broke eye contact when he decided that enough was enough.

"Well, if you're going to keep staring at me like that," he glowered down at his wrist cuffs, "at least buy me a drink first."

Riq IV made a short, amused sound. "Of course." He raised his right hand to summon the guard. "Get the blue decanter from my private reserve."

The guard nodded and promptly slipped out of the room.

"You are the anomaly, aren't you?" Zeta Alpha Rick broke his silence finally. "How are you still alive?"

"I have no reason to believe the plasma-radiation claim. There's nothing reliable going on to suggest it." Rick grunted in reply. "It can't be ruled out because I don't know with one-hundred-percent certainty, but it's an educated guess based on previous observation and knowledge. Your lackeys are wrong, but it looks like nothing's gonna convince them otherwise until they see it for themselves."

When the guard reappeared with two shot glasses, Rick could feel his already low mood deteriorating further - all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and pretend that reality didn't exist, yet it looked like the Council members were going to force him into staying put for the time being. After the shots were poured, he raised both arms to display the fact his wrists were still bound together. "As much as I'd like to oblige your hospitality, i-it's just not gonna happen like this..."

"You'll find a way, I'm sure." Maximums Rickimus sat up properly, a wide grin coming over his face. "So this is what all the fuss was about? It looks and behaves like just another generic Rick to me."

Quantum Rick spoke up from his place at the holographic whiteboard. "Of course it is. Most of them first arrive that way. I'll likely be here for at least another month working out exactly where it fits, but that one is the most reliable yet."

"Reliable?" Ricktiminus Sancheziminius hissed back at him. "None of them have been. Your calculations are never accurate."

Quantum Rick's reply was incredibly grumpy. "I am never wrong."

Rick narrowed his eyes; he had no idea what they were talking about. A moment later, he decided he didn't care, as he had more pressing concerns on his mind. "Where's Morty? What have you done with him?"

Riq IV raised a hand as if to dismiss the query entirely. "He will be returned. Our resident archivist is busy adding him to the records. Not that you asked for it, but you'll thank us later. Mortys are considered to be a bit of a novelty here. Ricks treat them like pets or accessories, or perhaps a statement of wealth. An unmarked Morty like yours is easily stolen and reassigned."

"Unmarked...?" Rick's tone was low and dangerous. "The fuck is THAT supposed to mean?"

Riq IV scowled, already finding his brash attitude and disrespect for authority difficult to deal with. "It means you sit there until we're done with you."

"Well that's just great..." Rick awkwardly picked up the first shot glass with the index fingers of his cuffed hands and tossed it back in one gulp. He set the first one aside and immediately repeated the process on the second. He didn't even care what was in them – it was alcoholic and that was all that mattered. "So here I am... that one-UURRPP Rick you wanted alive. Hurry up and get this over with so I can decline your offer and be on my way."

Rick Prime folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, vaguely impressed. "So this really is it, isn't it? So hostile... are you sure this is the one you wanted?"

"Yes." Riq IV's reply was blunt, as if issuing a warning to the questioning of his command. "We have been over this."

The room was silent again.

Zeta Alpha Rick rapped his fingers on the table, his brows furrowed in thought. "I want to read the file again. I feel like there's something I've missed." He fixed his gaze back on the Rick opposite him on the table. "How has your treatment been so far?"

Rick made a soft, discontent sound in the back of his throat and scowled down at the empty shot glasses; whatever they had in them, he wanted a lot more. "Fucking dismal if you want the honest truth... I've been abducted, laid out on a table, shoved in a room I couldn't escape from, kicked in the balls, and... a-and now I've been tied up against my will and carted off to this place like I'm some kind of sideshow."

"Actually, you're just interesting," Zeta Alpha Rick tried to reassure him. "Everything about you is worth paying attention to. Your abrasive personality, your vast branch of expertise, and your dimension's set of circumstances are most fascinating. Even your values are intriguing - the fact you so willingly carry a Morty around with you is... it's certainly different. But why would you inconvenience yourself like that?"

"Oh, so he's an inconvenience, is he?" Rick raised his voice; he did not like what he was hearing and anger was easy, even more so with how emotionally charged he already was. "Is that all you see him as!?"

"Settle. I am not intending it to be an insult." Zeta Alpha Rick tried again. "It's just that you could be using your mind to accomplish great things. Instead, you've elected to waste your time and potential to become the surrogate parent to what is little more than a burlap sack filled with turds. You're not even treating him like a pet. It's almost like you see him as an equal."

The other Council members softly laughed in mockery.

"You think he's a waste of time!?" Rick glowered at him. "Say that shit about my grandson again, I-I dare you!" He turned his glare on the rest of the seated Council members. "What's wrong with all of you?! You're complaining to me about potential when you don't even see it there for yourself? Have any of you even bothered to spend five minutes with your own damn Mortys?!"

"Sold mine nearly a year ago." Ricktiminus Sancheziminius folded his arms, offended by the suggestion. "He was a useless piece of shit. Any intelligent investor knows to sell when the price is high."

"Mine no longer exists," Quantum Rick stated plainly. "Neither does my original dimension. I discovered how to reverse the Big-Bang and accidentally imploded it."

"I think mine went missing?" Maximums Rickimus looked genuinely confused. "Who cares, really?"

Rick got to his feet, barely able to contain himself. "The fuck is wrong with you all!? Something felt wrong about your stupid Citadel the moment I set foot in it, b-but your mindsets are fucking off the rails! You don't care about me or Morty, do you? I'm just interesting, huh?! You're... you're all disgusting! You make me sick!"

"Settle down!" Riq IV's words were a sharp command as he raised his hand up, motioning for him to sit again. "You forget who you are speaking to, B-526."

"Oh, I know full well," Rick replied forcefully as he slammed his hands down on the table in front of him. "But I don't give a FUCK about your hierarchy bullshit! D-don't tell me what to do, I'm not one of your sheep! A-and I get that you've made a sanctuary to protect all the Ricks you've suckered into doing all your dirty work, but you've gone and put yourselves on top of it!"

"Settle." Riq IV warned him again.

Rick wasn't having any of it. "You-y-you... your solution to hiding from the government was to form your own government? D-do you have any idea how hypocritical that is?!" He was practically yelling at them now. "You're real kings of the mountain, aren't you?! But your empire is a huge fucking pile of garbage!"

Riq IV was positively seething now, while the other Council members were a mixture of offended and annoyed. After another moment, Rick decided it was best to take his seat again. Quantum Rick seemed to ignore the exchange entirely and continued working through the outstanding equation in front of him.

"Something wrong?" Rick challenged them. "Am I the first Rick with enough balls to actually call you out on it? Aren't you going to reprimand me for insubordination? What about my bad attitude, which might be caused by, o-oh, I don't know... the fact I'm still restrained? What crime have I committed!?"

"Actually, it's all quite refreshing to listen to." Quantum Rick calmly spoke up. "You are what they're looking for, after all. I'd rather be listening to the objections of Ricks like you than the silence of a thousand dead ones."

The comment was obviously designed to get everyone's mind back into perspective and it certainly worked. However, the statement left Rick feeling confused; he still had no idea why they had dragged him in here in the first place.

"So," the scientist decided to just speak his mind. "Why am I here? Because aside from feeling grossly uninformed, I'm not having a particularly good day... I-I wanna be on my way again and I'm sure you all have better things to do that sit there and listen to me bitch at you."

"Ah, yes," Maximums Rickimus nodded in understanding. "Anyone could see what was unfolding in that Council meeting and it was... most unfortunate. How are you faring now?"

"Not great." Rick admitted, though it was a vast understatement. "It doesn't fall in my worst-ranked top ten, but it's pretty far up there. I-I don't really wanna talk about it."

"I see." Maximums Rickimus nestled the fingers of his hands in each other and set them down on the table. "If that question you were presented with during the Council meeting was answered, you would have found yourself up here anyway."

"So you were just gonna drag it out and make a spectacle of it... great." Rick growled. "Seems like a whole lot of hot air over nothing. What's the point? What was so great about me that you had to put all this effort into getting me here alive, and why are you making such a big deal about it? And why the wrist cuffs? Were you hoping to get me fired up at the meeting and exploit my temper as an example of what happens to Ricks who dare speak back to their superiors? Because that's about the only place I can guess you'd be going with this."

"On the contrary," Riq IV was amused by what he was hearing now. "We want to offer you a job."

"Wait, what?" Rick stared at him. "After all that, you... you..." He narrowed his eyes, the complete lack of understanding unable to be hidden. "Why me?"

"No doubt you've already been told you're 'a Rick of interest', and that is especially true in your case. Your set of experiences and your attitude sets you apart from the rest." Riq IV was proudly grinning now. "A Rick like yourself has the perfect balance of selflessness, determination, a blatant disregard for authority, and just the right amount of arrogance. Your gumption, persistence, and innovative thinking keeps you alive regardless of circumstance, and your personality does not suggest that you are a cowering peon like the rest of them. Put simply... we need more of you."

"You're... y-you're kidding, right?" Rick snorted derisively.

"Not even slightly," Riq IV shook his head. "I know it is still in its early days, but the population of the Citadel already feels... stagnant. A Rick like you needs to continue existing and make decisions to propagate the multiverse with better versions of ourselves. Most of the worthless peons out there are not interested in the betterment of anything. They're hedging their bets on the safe option of being protected and some of them are barely worthy of being here at all." He made a loud sound in mockery. "You're vastly superior to them."

"No I'm not... I've met Ricks independently before all this mess began. They're all like me, they're... assholes." Rick quickly shook his head. "Nothing really sets us apart."

"I'm sure you'll think differently soon enough." Riq IV watched him carefully, figuring his proposal could go either way at the moment. "If you spend more time observing your dimensional siblings, you'll soon notice just how different they are to you. They are... lesser. And a lot of them are just cowards."

Rick frowned; now that he thought about it, that statement wasn't actually untrue. He'd already seen glaringly obvious contrasts in the Ricks who had stolen him from his native dimension, as well as differences in the Ricks who had been walking around the Citadel. "It's not cowardly if you gotta run." He stated after a moment's silence.

Riq IV shrugged it off and continued. "Your circumstances will suit our needs perfectly. You no longer have any prior commitments, and thus the Council of Ricks would like to officially offer you a full-time position here at the Citadel. For now, we need a Galactic Federation informant and an advisor to the Council. You will be afforded accommodation and we will even allow you to keep that scruffy little Morty you seem to like hauling around."

"Hey, watch it!" Rick narrowed his eyes and made a sharp, warning growl. "For now, huh? You mean you have other plans for me?"

Riq IV ignored him. "What say you, Rick of Dimension B-526?" He began removing items from the drawer under his side of the table; first a set of keys, then a silver three-pointed pin, a sealed envelope, and then finally a small pager-like device. "The next step is registration and officially recording you in the database. The members of the Citadel will have much to discuss and learn from you."

"Uh, l-let's not get carried away just yet." Rick grunted as he eyed up the silver pin, immediately disliking its presence. "How about we start by removing these things?" He raised both arms again and nodded towards his wrist cuffs. "I also probably need about nine more shots before I can tolerate listening to any more of your bullshit."

Riq IV considered his suggestion; while he wasn't enjoying what he was hearing, he hadn't heard an outright rejection to his offer yet. After another moment, he waved his guard back to his side. "Bring in the scrubs and pull something else from my private reserve. I do not care what it is this time, we may be here a while."

"There is also the outstanding matter of the unregulated portal device." Quantum Rick spoke up once the room was quiet again. With a calm flick of his wrist, his holographic whiteboard disintegrated and he used the same device to display images of Rick's portal-gun blueprints. "This is an interesting design variation. I have not seen a plasma core used in this way for a long time and I wish I could have seen it intact and in person. However, the design in its current state presents a rather-concerning problem. "

"Well, that explains why those were stolen from me..." Rick glared hard at the display. "I wasn't aware that portal guns required regulation, not that I would comply because screw your stupid rules. All I did was invent the portal gun and redesign it as needed. Nobody else in my dimension has ever thought of something similar. It's a one-off, y'know? I-it's mine... how can you regulate something that nobody else has even done before?"

"What you are saying is true for all Ricks that fall on the central finite curve." Quantum Rick said in a flat, uninterested tone that suggested he had already explained this countless times before. "Only a Rick has managed to unlock the gateway to the multiverse and the infinite, but that is part of the problem, as there are no guidelines or standards on their portal-gun designs. We have been trying to implement them since the formation of the Council." He brought up the next hologram slide, which contained documented photos of the parts. "A rogue portal device like this in the wrong hands would be devastating."

"I'm not sure if I know what you're getting at..."

"Then I'll make this simple for you - install a self-destruct mechanism in your portal gun when it is returned to you." The Council's mathematician turned away from the hologram to narrow his eyes at Rick, his expression turning stern and serious. "If you continue to adventure across the multiverse, then you cannot allow multidimensional portal technology to fall into the wrong hands... it would put every timeline that ever existed at risk. Forget about the Galactic Federation pursuing you to the ends of your own universe, it would become bureaucrats banding together across infinite timelines similar to what the Council of Ricks is doing now, only on a much larger scale." He paused deliberately. "Everything we know would be, for lack of a better term, royally fucked."

Rick was silent as he considered the thought, his brows knitted hard in discontentment.

"If the bureaucrats ever did obtain access to multidimensional portal technology, I'm not sure they'd be responsible enough to know how to use it wisely," the councilman went on. "If they managed to break the multiverse itself, everything would just... stop existing."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Rick snorted in disgust. "I get it. Fine, I'll do it... but I need to get my portal gun back first."

Riq IV leaned back in his chair, feeling accomplished; it looked like he was finally getting somewhere. However, he didn't have time to ponder it and his attention was quickly redirected to the door of his private chambers as the Guard Rick shoved Ricktus and Surgeon Rick in through the doorway. "Ah, excellent. Both of you scrubs, get over here. I want you to take a seat alongside your live retrieval, because we have much to discuss."

Ricktus did as he was told without a second thought.

"I've been meaning to ask you something about that, boss." Surgeon Rick was far more relaxed as he sat down, opting for the chair on the other side of the scientist. "You mean like, medical scrubs? Or the fact that we're trash-tier? Because that's funny either way. I see what you did there."

Riq IV gave him a look that could kill, only to ignore him afterwards. "Tell me," a wide, predatory grin came over his face as he locked his gaze on the doctor. "Does this Rick look dangerous to you?"

"Uh..." Ricktus nervously gripped the edge of the table and gave Rick a quick sideways glance as he tried to guess the kind of answer that his superior would want to hear. "He... he's a wanted felon in his dimension, sir."

"That's not what I asked." Riq IV bared his teeth, thoroughly enjoying himself now. "Does he look dangerous to you? Will he pose a threat to the Citadel if you take off his collar and cuffs?"

Ricktus was hesitant before answering this time. "No...?"

"So why is he still wearing them?" Anger rose in the councilman's voice.

"Y-you asked me to do that, sir!" Ricktus cowered in reply.

"Well, listen to what I'm asking you now, fool!" Riq IV barked back at him. "Remove them! We do not treat our new arrivals with such poor hospitality!"

Rick sat there as the items were hastily taken off and he wondered if the Council actually enjoyed tormenting their underlings. He rubbed at his wrists after the cuffs were gone, relieved to have some degree of freedom back. "So what happens now? Are you gonna give me my grandson back so I can leave?"

"Actually," Riq IV slid the sealed envelope across the table. "The rest of you can leave instead. I wish to talk to these three in private."

There was a collective wave of audible moans and grumbles as the other Council members and the guard filed out of the room. Quantum Rick unhurriedly deposited the holographic device on the table before he slipped out the door.

Ricktiminus Sancheziminius stopped in front of Ricktus on his way out and stood directly in his personal space. "If you're truly competent enough to bring one back alive, then here's another for you." He thrust a folded note into his hands without waiting for a response. "One of my business partners has gotten himself captured. I trust that you are smart enough to work out the rest." He made a point of slamming the door shut behind him as he left.

Ricktus stuffed the piece of paper into his coat pocket and quietly took his place at the table again.

Riq IV narrowed his eyes at the exchange, but chose to ignore it. "Now that unpleasantry is out of the way... perhaps we can return to the actual business at hand." He nodded towards the envelope. "This is what you can expect to receive upon completion of your current work. If you wish to renegotiate the offer, you can do so via the proper avenues." He pushed the other items across the table. "This is your standard-issue distress beacon and pin, B-526. You are expected to wear it at all times while you are here."

Rick promptly pocketed the set of keys and picked up the distress beacon to inspect it, but left the pin untouched, not wanting to have anything to do with it after considering what he'd already heard about the treatment of Ricks who wore the silver version. "What is this?"

Ricktus grabbed the envelope and tore off the seal. He remained silent as he read the piece of paper inside, though it was clear from his expression that he was completely stunned by what he was seeing.

"How much is it, dude?" Surgeon Rick asked eagerly as he tossed Rick's registration papers onto the table, figuring that step was coming next.

"If you find yourself in a situation that you cannot escape from," Riq IV ignored the other Ricks who were seated on either side of the one in the middle as he explained, "then you can activate that beacon and a member of the Citadel will be dispatched to retrieve you at the earliest convenience. You might like to think of it as an insurance policy or a last resort. The Council protects their own."

"Come on, bro! Stop holding out on me!" Surgeon Rick protested. "How much is it?"

"O-oh my god..." Ricktus folded up the piece of paper again and slid it across the table towards his assistant. "This is only on completion, right...? There's still so much work to do..."

Riq IV nodded. "At the very least, there is the official registration process and collecting intel. I'm not paying you until you can guarantee his survival."

"About that," Ricktus lowered his head, regret weighing heavily on his mind. "We need to have a discussion."

When Surgeon Rick unfolded the offer letter, his first sound was little more than a pathetic squeak of joy. Then he threw his head back and pumped both fists in the air, bellowing a loud cheer. "Oho, fuck yeaaahhh, baby! MAKE IT RAIN!"

"I don't think that's how negotiation works, C-711..." Ricktus sighed wearily. "You're not supposed to accept the first offer you receive."

"So what was it?" Rick raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

Surgeon Rick smacked the piece of paper down in front of him to show it off. "2.1 million, yo! You're a fuckin' goldmine!" He playfully elbowed Rick in the ribs with all his enthusiasm. "Cha-ching!"

Rick immediately took the opportunity to elbow him back, not appreciating the gesture at all. Before he could get too wound up about it, another unfamiliar Rick opened the door and carried in one very-asleep Morty with him. The Rick simply placed Morty onto the table and slipped out again without saying a word.

"That was weird." Rick huffed in annoyance as he reached across to take the little boy into his arms. "I-is that normal?" He immediately made note of how non-responsive Morty was and a concerned frown grew over his face. Then he found the little gauze patch stuck to the boy's neck and began to pry it off, feeling his anger rising all over again. "What is this?"

"Yeah, it's very normal." Surgeon Rick quickly answered. "That was Archivist Rick, but he doesn't talk much. He's super weird, and I don't think he's seen sunlight in yea-"

"What the fuck IS this?" Rick growled over the top of him. "W-what did you do to my grandson?!" After pulling the bandage off, he gently ran a finger across the two tiny sutures he discovered on his neck. "I didn't consent to this! Y-you've violated him!"

Riq IV rolled his eyes. "I've already explained this to you. Your Morty has been sedated and marked with a subdermal microchip that is officially registered to you. The Council has the same procedure performed on all Mortys to ensure that they are not stolen and reassigned. Settle down, it does not hurt them at all."

"That tears it. I-I've heard enough..." Rick's tone became low and dangerous as he spoke through clenched teeth. "This place is the fucking worst, a-and what you did to Morty just now i-isn't even the half of it. You... you wanna know what the real insult is...?"

The two Ricks on either side of him watched him silently, while Riq IV's mouth set in a hard line.

"You all speak of sanctuary and protection, b-but it's bullshit. None of you are even remotely interested in that claim..." He spoke in a voice so quiet that the others could barely hear him. "If you were serious, y-you would have..." His shoulders were shaking and he seemed to be having difficulty articulating his thoughts. "You... y-you all... you knew what was going to happen to me. The. Whole. FUCKING. TIME." Each word was spoken with particular firmness and it was clear that he was getting more and more worked up with each one. "Didn't you...?"

"Hey come on, bro." Surgeon Rick attempted to placate him by reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. "Don't be like that, huh?"

"Don't tell me what to do..." Rick snarled back at him in a threatening tone. "All of you were watching me for how long? You all knew what was coming for me, and yet... you did nothing. You just," his breath momentarily caught in his throat, "you just let it happen, d-didn't you? I-is that why you've been watching me the whole time...? Was my planet's demise really just an interesting thing to document...?"

"Rick, please don't entertain this line of thought right now." Ricktus shook his head. "We can talk about this later, OK? I need to fix it anyway..."

"Oh, you actually WANT to talk now!?" Rick snapped his head back up and glared at him, wild-eyed and dangerous. "Well, that's a start! Why don't we talk about the fact you did NOTHING?! I-if your damn organization was so fucking interested in saving my life, then why the hell didn't you give me the advance warning to just get the fuck off my planet earlier?!"

"Non-interference code." Ricktus replied simply.

"Th-that didn't seem to matter when you ABDUCTED ME!" Rick bellowed at him before snatching up the silver Citadel-of-Ricks pin, and he hurled it across the room in a blind rage. "THIS is what I think of your fake hierarchy! Fuck you, fuck your stupid Citadel, and fuck your Council bullshit! If this is how you do things around here, then I-I want NO PART OF IT!"

Riq IV rose to his feet, having decided that the conversation was getting out of control. "What would you have had us done differently? Deploy the entire population of the Citadel to destroy the Federation in your dimension!?" He placed both hands firmly on the table in front of him and gave the other a stern look. "Don't be insane! Most of them are incompetent and would die. Besides, there are barely two hundred of us, which isn't even enough to make a scratch on them. We couldn't save your planet and we can barely save ourselves as it is!"

The outburst seemed to calm Rick down a little, but it certainly didn't make him feel any better. "S-some advance warning would have been helpful..." He lowered his head once again and his shoulders sank in defeat. "M-my family didn't have to die like that..."

"What did you want to discuss, Q-316?" Riq IV growled out the question; he was nearing the end of his patience and was tiring of them still being there. "Make it quick, as I have other business to attend to."

"As you can see, the hours ahead of us are going to be critical." Ricktus spoke quickly, wanting to get to the point right away. "I'd like to request containment of our live retrieval until his mind is in a better place."

"I'll allow it," Riq IV shrugged. "Do whatever you need to. Maybe you can teach him how to behave while you're at it."

"What?!" Rick howled in protest. "N-NO!"

"It is already done." Riq IV raised a hand to silence him. "I know this is a lot to take in. In less than the space of two weeks, you've gone from a quiet inventor with a mundane, domestic lifestyle to one of the most highly desired Ricks in the multiverse. You are not in a good place to make an informed decision at this current moment in time, but I hope that you will reconsider your stance on the Citadel after you have sat in time-out long enough to settle down."

"F-fff... fuck you!" Rick spat back at him.

Riq IV chose to ignore the blatant disrespect. "What happened to your dimension was nothing short of unspeakable, but you are probably not surprised to hear that similar occurrences happen all the time. You will be given ample time to decide whether or not you want to join the Citadel's ranks. I only hope that you do not disappoint me." He turned to face the doctor. "Get him out of here."

"Good," Rick muttered back. "We're finally in agreement about something. I-I never wanna see this place again..."

Ricktus removed the portal gun from his coat and began to punch in the coordinates back to his ship in Dimension Q-316.

"One last thing," Riq IV's tone was suddenly much more quiet and sincere than it had been a moment ago. "Don't let this break you. Otherwise, they've already won."

The other two Ricks around him were silent and unwilling to respond. When the portal opened up, Rick was only too happy to get to his feet and retreat through it; anything was better than staying there.

* * *

 **November 27th, 10:25pm, Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316**

* * *

Shortly after returning to the ship, Rick was placed back into quarantine all over again. He put up no protest this time, but he still hated being stuck there.

However, this time his RFID wristband had been revoked, along with his free-roaming ship privileges. Rick pounded on the door, yelled demands at the ceiling, and at one point he had even tried looking for the hidden observation camera to hurl strings of abuse at it, but it had all been to no avail - his captors weren't going to let him out just because he was making noise. They knew damn well what they were doing, even if he did not agree with their intent.

Rick slammed his back against the wall and sank to the ground; Morty would provide no company while he was still under the effects of sedation, so he had left him in the crib to sleep it off. For the time being, he was alone in the dim light of the room with nothing but his thoughts and time, which was the worst combination of an already bad place to be in. He began looking around the room for another escape and soon found it in the bottle of whiskey on his table; bandaging his hurt with alcohol had always been an effective strategy and he didn't see any reason to stop now.

In another moment, he was was up on his feet and in the middle of the room to snatch it up, then he tore the cap off and began to drain it of its contents. He sank heavily into one of the chairs at the table and did not bother looking up when he heard the door open.

"I didn't want to do this," the voice that came in tried to explain as if it would help somehow. "But you didn't exactly leave us with any other choice. This is for your own good, you know."

Rick finally looked up when he heard the chair being pulled up on the other side of his table. "Oh," the words were bitter and full of hatred, "it's YOU."

"Yes, it's me." Ricktus interlocked his fingers together and carefully watched the other, the faintest hint of concern on his features. "Is this place safe enough? Do you need me to take you somewhere so you can't hurt yourself?"

"I-is anywhere safe, really...?" It sounded like a genuine question. "I'm not sure what that means anymore..."

"I was actually hoping this would resurface," the doctor admitted as he pushed the glasses he wore back into position on his face, "I deeply regret how you learned the details of your planet's demise, but now that we're talking about it..." He ran a hand nervously through his thick brush of spiky hair. "There are no more nasty surprises coming. Now you know everything."

"Is THAT supposed to make me feel better?" Rick's reply was seething with sarcasm. "Why are you really here...?" He brought the rim of the whiskey bottle to his mouth and took another long swig out of it.

Ricktus just sat there and watched him, torn between taking the bottle away and letting him keep it; he knew either option would only cause more harm but there was no way he could fix this one. "Look," he tried again, "I'm sorry that I fucked up. I don't pretend to know what you're feeling, but I think the reason you keep getting yourself so damn hung up over the loss of your family is because you're not giving yourself any time to think about it and grieve."

"I didn't ask to be born..."

"I didn't choose to exist as a physical entity either, yet here we are." He folded his arms and decided to just get to the point. "This is going to sound entirely counterproductive, but just let it out. Really, I mean that. Don't be ashamed to cry if you have to, go right ahead. Nobody's going to judge you for it, least of all me." He had to pause for a moment and consider his next words carefully, as he didn't want to make the conversation about himself. "Perhaps it is my fault that you have had so many distractions up until this point, but no more. You've got to stop pushing this out of your mind and allow yourself to feel bad about it."

"Don't... tell m-" Rick's words were cut off with a loud burp.

"What to do? Really?" The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Listen up, because this time I'm going to. You obviously don't know how to deal with your issues and I want to help you. I'm trying my best to keep you alive here... how can I do that? Because I can't release you in confidence knowing where your mind is."

Rick made a loud, frustrated growl as he set the bottle back down and huddled up into a ball on the chair. "I... I-I can't believe you're still on that. I told you it was over and done with."

"Is it?" The doctor persisted gently. "You don't sound convincing."

"I wasn't aware that I needed to!" Rick fiercely retorted. "Look, who doesn't want to kill themselves? How many times have you thought, 'hey, existence is meaningless, so what's the point?' I-it doesn't even matter..." He slowly shook his head, but remained curled up. "Everyone thinks about it, but i-it turns out that things are a lot more complicated than that... I-I still got shit I wanna do. Not that it was any of your business."

The other Rick just listened quietly; while he still wasn't entirely convinced, he was slightly less worried than he had been before.

There was a long silence, and both Ricks simply sat there in each other's presence for a while, neither one wanting to speak.

"Humor me," Rick finally sat back up to take another mouthful of whiskey from the bottle. "There... t-there's no way to conceal th-UURRPP brainwaves, i-is there?"

"Not at all," Ricktus sounded quite down about it. "No Rick has ever successfully discovered a way to. Your only viable options are to hide at the Citadel, to keep running, or to dimension-hop until you're pursued in the next one you retreat to."

"Then my original statement stands. I-if there's no hiding from this," Rick tapped his forehead for emphasis, though he immediately regretted it with how much the alcohol was affecting him already, "then why hide? Fucking... I wanna g-get out there and murder everything!"

The doctor relaxed a little more after hearing the declaration. "You're still on that, aren't you? Good." His voice was quiet as he slowly nodded in agreement. "I get it. If you can hang out here for a little while longer and demonstrate that you're not going to wipe yourself out, then I'm happy to let you get back to it. There's nothing in the room you can hurt yourself on, but it's more about intent at this point."

"I still don't get you," Rick narrowed his eyes at him. "Why are you doing this to me? If you really didn't give a fuck, you would have let me go, but... here I am."

"I don't want to see you die," Ricktus admitted. "I've spent far too much time on you and my project to waste it now." He slid out of the chair and headed for the door. "Listen to me, Rick – I need you to spend time quietly chilling out here. Take as long as you need to. I will unlock the door again for you when you ready. I'll give you your portal-gun pieces back, too. Just be sure to make the modifications that the Council requested of you. Is that understood?"

"Yeah... b-but you know they're lying to you, right?" Rick's eyes tracked him to the door. "That Council ain't gonna give you shit. I only spent about an hour with them and called them out on their bullshit the minute I worked them out."

"I..." Ricktus stopped himself. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

"Look, you're looking for acceptance and acknowledgment from your superiors, right? I get that, b-but they're never gonna give it to you." Rick took another long pull from the whiskey bottle. "You want them to pay attention to you? Start talking back and-UURRPP challenging their command. They're... t-they seem to be looking for Ricks like that for some reason."

"Are they now...?" The question was one of genuine surprise.

"Those idiots don't care one whit about protecting you," Rick continued. "T-they... they're only interested in using you for information so they know how not to die."

Ricktus stood in front of the closed door with his back to the other, his hand hovered over the keypad.

"They're promising you and everyone else like you safety, but it's a lie." Rick knew it was alcohol-fueled rambling by now, but he didn't care. "It's just an excuse to lord their power over a hierarchy that they themselves put in place - i-it's just like any other government... it's bullshit!" He slammed a fist down on the table. "The sooner both of you get out from under their asses, the better off you'll both be. Fuck the government, go do what you want... start thinking for yourselves and don't be sheep."

"You think I don't know that?" Ricktus glowered as he turned around to face him. "We know what the Council is like."

Rick blinked at him, confused. "Then why...? Why bother serving somebody who's only interested in screwing you over?"

"Trust me," Ricktus turned around once more and began to punch in the door code. "Once they give me what I want, I'm done with them, and I'm taking C-711 with me... he's too good for their shit."

"Do you... do you e-ever tell him that?"

"Why would I? He knows how it is." Ricktus stood in the open doorway and tilted his head back towards the other. "And before you ask, no, I don't want to talk about my own agenda with the Council. You're smart, I'm sure you'll figure it out. I only ask that you do not speak of it. It... still needs more time."

Rick watched the door close behind him and raised an eyebrow; so much for 'knowing everything'.

It didn't take long for his mood to slip again; the silence of the room and being alone meant that his thoughts would creep back up on him. The fact that he had already consumed half the bottle hadn't helped yet, so he got started on the remainder.

Despite his tolerance levels, the drink did its work faithfully; his head soon swam with the familiar sensation of drunkenness that he had been so desperately craving. It still couldn't mute his mind, though; thinking about the way his daughter and granddaughter died hurt to his core and he hated himself for it. There was nothing he could do to make it better either; it was his fault and it was tearing him apart inside. It was fortunate that Morty was asleep because Rick wouldn't have even been able to bring himself to look at him; his life had barely begun and he'd already destroyed everything for him.

He was good at destroying things.

What he had done was utterly deplorable and he would never be able to forgive himself for it. He genuinely believed that he deserved to die, and the irony was that everyone was still trying to keep him alive.

He hadn't moved on - he hadn't even started. Thinking about it wasn't helping either; it was like being tortured. Every fiber of his being hurt, the pain almost suffocating him. His breath came out in sharp, uneven heaves as he did his best to contain himself, but he knew there was little point in that, too. There had been truth in the doctor's words; he had to face it sometime, as he had been avoiding it far too long.

He just wished he was better at being able to cope with it at all.

When the scientist felt the sensation of nausea growing in the pit of his stomach, he decided it was time to retreat to bed. He sluggishly forced himself to his feet and gripped the whiskey bottle by the neck, intending to take it with him. It only took a single step away from the table for him to trip over his own feet and he went down with a hard thud, the bottle smashing as it struck the tiled floor beside him. Glass shards cut up his hand but he didn't care; it had been mostly empty this time, so it wasn't as devastating as the time he lost a bottle of whiskey in the same way back in Birdperson's tree house.

He didn't even bother getting up this time, and as far as he was concerned, he belonged down there.

As he watched the blood from his hand blend with the spilled whiskey on the floor, he wished the universe would just smite him down where he lay, but then again, maybe it was keeping him alive as punishment for how much of a scoundrel he was; perhaps it was karmic retribution, even though he didn't believe in such nonsense. It didn't even matter once he had his portal gun back - he could run anywhere he wanted, but he would never be able to escape from himself.

He didn't want to exist.

* * *

Surgeon Rick knew all too well that it was difficult to sleep when one had a lot on his mind. After dumping the live retrieval back in quarantine, his boss had given him the rest of the night off. However, all he could do was stare at the ceiling above his couch while his TV blared on the far wall of his personal quarters - it was only on for background noise and a distraction, but it wasn't working. He was far too busy thinking about the events that had unfolded at the Citadel of Ricks, and his personal responsibility in the live capture's breakdown.

He actually felt guilty about it; he'd tried pushing it out of his mind, but it hadn't worked. His boss's policy of only giving away information until needed had never sat well with him, but this time it had been downright irresponsible and may have even cost him the live retrieval's life – everyone who had ever bothered to read his file knew that he had been flagged as suicidal; he'd even attempted it previously according to the data.

Watching their charge crumble during the assembly had not been pleasant to witness, nor had watching him utterly lose it at the highest level of authority in the Citadel. At the very least it was going to cost them their retrieval fee; they could only collect it if the Rick had agreed to register, and that looked very unlikely now.

So much for winning the lottery.

"Ugh..." Surgeon Rick back sat up and pushed the blanket off himself, realizing how terrible he was at not caring. He didn't know how his boss managed the feat, but then again maybe it was a lie, just like his ridiculous act of pride and confidence.

He was utterly torn in how to respond and was unsure if he should check the monitors and invade Rick B-526's privacy, or just go in there and check up on him. The trip to his room was shorter than walking all the way to the terminal room, so he opted for the latter, not bothering to change out of his pajamas. He was in the dim light of the hallway within the next couple of minutes and had to scowl as he navigated his way through the corridor; the ship's automatic processes had switched the lighting to the night-time setting and it was harder for him to see than normal.

The other inhabitants of the ship obviously couldn't see much better, as he was crash-tackled around the legs by one of his boss's stray genetic experiments.

"Oww, FUCK!" Surgeon Rick cried out as he hit the deck. He felt a long, sticky tongue immediately trying to groom his face as the offender tried to apologize and appease him, but he quickly shoved it off and got to his feet again. "Go back to your own part of the ship!"

The worker bee adopted a submissive gesture and flattened herself against the ground, her response a string of upset buzzing and chirps that suggested she was actually sorry for what she had done.

Surgeon Rick kicked his heel out at it, but deliberately missed. "Stay in your own damn territory! This part of the ship belongs to us, and you know that! Now get outta here! Fuck off and go do... uh, bee things."

The insectoid creature got to her feet and bounded off, her giant, scythe claws ticking across the metal ground as she went back to her business.

"Fuckin' hell..." Surgeon Rick shook his head. "I swear those things are far more intelligent than they let on..." He resumed his journey to the other Rick's door. Once in front of it, he mashed in the door code and immediately took note of two outstanding concerns as it opened before him - the sharp scent of alcohol in the air, along with the ear-piercing cries of a very miserable young boy.

He was across the room in three short bounds when he saw the Rick on the ground – it was a higher priority in the immediate. "Shit, shit, shit..." He crouched down beside him and placed a hand on his neck to feel for a pulse. When he found it, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Hey, buddy. What are you doin' down here?"

Rick's first response was a weak groan as he was woken up, and then he raised his cut-up hand to bat him away. "F-fuck off..."

Surgeon Rick didn't need to ask what was going on; just looking at him was obvious enough to draw a conclusion. "Can you stand up? Do you need my help hauling your ass to bed?" When the hand swatted at him again, he caught it and held onto it to inspect the injury. "Damn, yo. Why'd you do this to yourself?"

Rick made a short sound in protest and forcefully yanked his hand away. "I-I deserved it..."

Surgeon Rick sighed a second time. "If you say so..." Now that he knew Rick was still alive, Morty was becoming the higher priority. "I'm gonna roll you onto your side. I need you to stay that way for a bit." He placed both hands on the other and repositioned him, finding it quite easy considering how much of a dead-weight he was being at the moment. Once he was satisfied that Rick wasn't going to roll onto his back again, the surgeon moved to his feet and headed over to the crib to retrieve Morty from it. "Promise me you're gonna stay down like that until I get back, OK?"

Rick's only reply was a slurred, indecipherable mumble.

"Good," Surgeon Rick figured that was as much consent as he was going to get out of him for the time being. "Remember, don't move." He hastily slipped out of the room.

Five minutes later, he had set Morty up again with a fresh diaper and a bottle of warm milk. After placing him back in the crib, he lingered momentarily just to make sure the little boy would settle.

"You reckon you could chill out there for the night, little guy?" Surgeon Rick knew there was absolutely no point in asking such a question of a baby, yet he did anyway. "Your Rick is kinda fucked up and he needs you to not bother him."

Morty was quiet as he snuggled in amongst the blankets; he was still feeling the effects of the sedative and was far too drowsy to put up a fight.

"Yeah, that's what I wanna hear. You should hang out there more often anyway. Your Rick spoils the shit outta you by letting you sleep with him. One of these days he's gonna crush you by mistake." Surgeon Rick moved away to stand over Rick once more, who had since fallen asleep again in the short time he had been away. "OK, bro. Time for bed, because you can't stay down there." He crouched down beside him and carefully sat him up. Once he had draped a floppy arm over his shoulder, he hauled him back onto his feet and began guiding him towards the bunk bed.

Rick clearly did not want to be moved; all he had wanted to do was stay down and forget about everything. The change of height did very little for how he was feeling and he abruptly threw up down the front of himself and onto the floor. "Ah, shit..." He hissed. "S-sorry..."

"Don't be, brother. I deal with worse shit all the time!" Surgeon Rick cheerfully laughed after the declaration. He navigated the rest of the way across the room and carefully sat his dimensional counterpart down on the edge of the bed. "You know what is a problem, though? Now you're gross and I can't leave you like that. You think you could hang back here a sec? You're about my size and I got something you can sleep in. I also gotta patch you up, fuck it." He lingered for a moment, then dashed out of the room again.

Rick's response was a barely audible 'no', but he did as he was told this time and just quietly sat there until the other returned again. He did not put up a fight when he felt the sensation of his soiled clothing being stripped off, nor did he seem to care when his limbs were held onto as the new clothing was placed on. While his hand was getting bandaged up, he just held it out and let it happen; all he wanted to do was sleep, and was prepared to tolerate anything if it meant being able to do so faster.

"You're all good now," Surgeon Rick told him in a quiet, gentle voice. "But I'm gonna sit with you until you fall asleep, OK? You gotta stay on your side... otherwise, you risk choking if you puke again. You understand, right?"

Rick furrowed his brows in protest; he wanted to tell him that he didn't care if he died in his sleep. He also wanted to tell him to go away, but he also knew that it was very unlikely to happen with how much attention his caregiver was spending on him currently. Instead, he gave a quiet, resigned sigh and clumsily flopped down onto the mattress behind him.

"Ah-ah-ah," the other Rick's voice became firm. "What did I just say to you? Your side, buddy, your side. Lie on your side if you don't wanna die. It's like, the cardinal rule of drinking too much."

"D-didn't drink too much," Rick grumbled as he moved across the bed to lie down properly. "M-more... more like... n-not enough..."

"Look, bro... nobody's going to fault you for this." Surgeon Rick pulled up one of the chairs beside the bunk and sat down, prepared to stay as long as needed. "But don't make a habit out of it, OK? Your Morty needs you to be there for him."

The words were like a sharp stab straight to the heart and it cut the scientist down in an instant. A loud heave suddenly racked his chest and he brought his hands up to cover his face. "M-Morty doesn't need me... h-he never did..." It didn't take much for the last ounce of his resistance to crumble and he broke down in a fit of sobbing.

"Ah, shit, not again..." Surgeon Rick folded his arms and glanced off to the side, not really knowing what to do. He felt bad about setting him off, but then again it was bound to happen at any given moment considering everything that had occurred over the last several hours. He cautiously reached over to place a hand on Rick's head, then began to ruffle his fingers through the thick mess of spiky hair when he was not met with an objection. There was little point in saying anything by this point; nothing he could say or do would make it better. All he could do was offer his company, which likely wouldn't even be appreciated very much because they barely knew each other.

After a time, Rick finally calmed down again. When he relaxed and began to drift backwards, Surgeon Rick grabbed his shoulder to hold him firmly in place.

"Your side, buddy," he reminded him. "You gotta stay like that all night."

"D-don't care..."

Surgeon Rick rolled his eyes, though he took it as a good sign that his charge was still stubborn enough to want to keep protesting. This job was unlike so many of the others that the Council kept sending him, though one aspect remained the same: he was used to cleaning up their messes and mistakes and this job easily fit both of those definitions spectacularly by now.

When his arm got tired, he switched to the other one, feeling rather foolish for the new compromised position he was now leaning in. When he withdrew his arm to rest it, his charge slowly lulled backwards again.

"Fuckin' hell, bro... a-are you even listening to me?"

Rick made a grumpy sound in between slowing, uneven breaths. It was very clear to him that he had completely overdone it yet again, but he didn't care; all he wanted to do was sleep.

Surgeon Rick released a weary sigh; he was becoming tired himself and there was no way he could comfortably sit like that all night. Instead, he opted to climb over the other and occupy the space on the bunk behind him. Once he had pushed him to the edge of the bed, he wedged himself up against his back and used his entire body length as a solid object to make sure that his charge couldn't roll again during the night.

"Whenever you're ready to talk, I guess I'll do my best to listen." He told him. "I don't do meltdowns, but this job was botched the whole way through and you didn't have to suffer for it."

As far as Rick was concerned, there wasn't anything more that needed to be said; all the points he'd already made seemed pretty clear. Instead, he decided to sum up his entire thought process with just five words. "...I-I don't want to live."

"Yeah buddy," Surgeon Rick spoke after a long moment of silence. "Me too."


	19. The Rickstraction

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty is not something I own. It's an animated a cartoon by Adult Swim, created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is fanfiction, please support the official release and scream as loud as the sun until Season 3 comes out.

 **NOTE:** I'm pretty sure everyone wanted the events of this chapter. You're welcome. :3

* * *

 **Chapter 19 – The Rickstraction  
** **  
** **November 28th, 7:54am, Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316  
**

* * *

Sleepy eyes blinked open to the sound of a fussing young child somewhere off to the space in front of him. It took Rick a solid minute to focus his eyes on the side of the crib, and then he was aware of the fact that he had consumed so much alcohol that he was still relatively inebriated. He also became aware of a painful throbbing behind his eyes and under his ribcage, an uncomfortably full bladder, and a heavy, warm mass pressed up against him on the bed.

It was also snoring right next to his ear.

"Huh...?" Rick had to do a double-take; he turned his head to look back at the intruder who was still very much asleep and comfortably snuggled into his back. "W-what the hell!?" He sprang off the bed in surprise only to trip over and land in a sprawling heap on the floor beside it.

Surgeon Rick made a grumpy groan when his source of warmth was taken away and the movement caused him to stir awake. "Oh, hey... you OK down there?"

Rick stumbled back to his feet in a hurry. "Wh-what the hell are you doing in my bed?!"

Surgeon Rick lazily opened his eyes and looked back at him as if it were the stupidest question in the world. "Sleeping... duh." He made note of the other male's mood and softly snickered, finding it amusing. "Sleeping and saving your dumb ass from vomit asphyxiation. What time is it?" He finally sat up to glance at the display console above the bedhead and yawned. "Eh, I still got about an hour before work. You want the bed back, bro?"

"Get the FUCK out of my room!" Rick loudly barked out the demand, though he immediately regretted it when Morty added to the noise with his own wailing. "Shit, not again..." He moved over to the crib and scooped him up in his arms. "Sorry about that, little buddy."

"Ah, he probably got several hours in this time. Nothing to worry about." Surgeon Rick slid off the edge of the bed and stood up to stretch his arms over his head. "Before you ask, we didn't do anything... was just trying to keep an eye on you. Besides, I have standards and you were drunk. How messed up would that be?"

"Get OUT!" Rick angrily pointed a thumb at the door.

"Nah, man. Not until you're sorted out. How's your hand?" Surgeon Rick nodded towards it. "Do you even remember what you did to yourself last night?"

Rick scowled as he set Morty over his shoulder and began the process of quietening him down. "I-I'd rather not, to tell you the truth..."

"So here's what's gonna happen next," Surgeon Rick watched him for a moment before heading for the door. "You can hang out here all day, or you can come follow me to work. While I'm sure the boss wants to keep you locked up until he knows you're good, I'd personally go insane. I-I'd rather be out there and supervised than left to my own devices in a box with my own thoughts and misery," he paused, grinning, "I'd rather choose the distraction."

Rick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "The other one told me to take time out and think about it. Now you're telling me not to?" He growled in annoyance but kept himself under control for Morty's sake. "Think about it... don't think about it... which one is it?"

"What if I told you it's both?" Surgeon Rick paused thoughtfully. "Like, give yourself time to think but don't get hung up over it. Well, actually you can because that's part of the grieving process, but... don't let it consume your every waking moment because that's not healthy either." He shook his head in frustration. "Damn it, see how this shit doesn't make sense? This is why I didn't major in psychology. I'm a fuckin' surgeon, I don't do head-space bullshit. All the people I dealt with were anesthetized and I didn't have to talk to them."

"Fine. I don't wanna be here, so," Rick forcefully thrust Morty into the other Rick's arms. "Hold onto my grandson for a sec, I-I gotta take a leak."

"You might wanna consider a shower while you're in there, dude. You threw up on yourself. Hope you haven't forgotten that!" Surgeon Rick happily took Morty and gave him a lopsided grin; it seemed that the little boy was still trying to work out why he looked like his grandpa and didn't at the same time. "Hell, kill two birds with one stone and pee in the shower. Saves time and the water-recycling system takes it all back to the same place."

"You're fucking disgusting!" Rick snarled as he slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

Surgeon Rick chuckled to himself; this Rick was just far too much fun to wind up. Then he realized that he couldn't help but care because he had liked him from the moment he had met him. Maybe that wouldn't prove to be a bad thing after all.

* * *

Surgeon Rick escorted his charge to the terminal hub at five minutes to nine. He decided to wheel Morty's crib along for the trip to allow him his own little safe space while his Rick worked. After arriving through the doorway, he pushed it in the direction of the other and made his way over to his own workstation.

"Why don't you get started on your reports for the Council?" He suggested. "Until one of the screens spits out another retrieval order, I'm gonna be processing shit for most of the day. I used to be a surgeon. Now I'm the pathologist, the euthanasia guy, the coroner, the morgue guy, and then crematorium guy after that. I'm glad they think I can do everything, but... holy shit." He grumpily sat down at his desk and took a test tube rack of biological specimens out of his work fridge, deciding to get stuck into work right away.

"Why do you even bother?" Rick grumbled as he glanced around the room. "Which one is mine?"

"Pick any one you want, they're all on the same network." Surgeon Rick shrugged. "Why bother? Somebody's gotta... you can't just leave dead Ricks and their portal guns lying around. We're the smartest thing alive across all of the timelines. You know how many aliens would exploit our DNA if we gave them the opportunity? You know that's asking for trouble, right?"

Rick pushed the crib over to the far row of terminals against the wall and finally decided on a table about five computers down from Surgeon Rick's. He sat down in the chair and immediately set his face in his hands, the intense discomfort behind his eyes reminding him of how much he'd overdone it. "S-so you just... spend all day collecting dead ones. What a waste of your time."

"Well, very rarely we get a live one like you, but wasting time and getting paid for it is the very definition of a job, yo." Surgeon Rick chuckled for a moment, only to give his charge a look of concern. "Oh, hey... you need drugs, don't you?" He got to his feet without waiting for an answer and began sifting through the clutter in his top drawer. "It's OK, bro. I got your back."

Ricktus casually arrived through the doorway as the hour ticked over and whistled a tune to himself as he made his way over to his own table. "Hey, C-711." He paused when he made note of the second Rick not too far away from him. "Ah, you're here, too. It's good to see you up again so soon."

"Uh, about that... he's gonna hang with us today, if you don't mind, boss." Surgeon Rick found what he was looking for and tossed a bottle of pills across the table. "He didn't wanna be stuck in the room, so I was figuring we could just take turns at keeping an eye on him while we work."

"Hmm... that's not going to work if both of us have to go out." Ricktus hummed in thought. "It's been a little more quiet than normal recently, but I wouldn't put it past HQ to overload us again soon enough."

Surgeon Rick shrugged. "Eh, we'll make it work." He removed a bottle of mineral water from his fridge and reached across to deposit it down onto the workspace before his charge. "Take this, too. When you get hungry, there's microwave food and ice cream bars in the freezer."

"Not my cryogenic freezer, I hope!" Ricktus suddenly objected. "How many times have I told you not to store food in that? Do you think I want my DNA samples mixed up with your goddamned cheeseburgers, or whatever the hell you put in there this time?!"

"Would you relax?" Surgeon Rick rolled his eyes as he sat back down at his desk. "When was the last time you even used that thing?"

"Last week!"

"Oh... well, not now, right?"

Rick hugged himself around the middle, his bad mood sinking further; the fact that he had to sit there and listen to the two Ricks arguing wasn't helping one bit. He wished the pain under his ribs would go away, as it was definitely not something that normally accompanied a hangover, but quickly attributed it to the fact that he had slept in an uncomfortable position during the night. He tried to put it out of his mind as he snatched up the bottle of pills to examine them more closely.

"What are these?" The scientist gave them an experimental shake. "They aren't even labeled."

Surgeon Rick replied with a soft snicker and a proud grin. "Oh yeah... add chemist and pharmacist to the list. Remember how I said I invented the drunken bender in my dimension? Well those are basically my quick fix. It's a little something I like to manufacture in-house an-"

"So you ARE stealing the pharmaceuticals!?" Ricktus snapped at him from his place across the room. "If those pills interfere with my results, I will hold you personally responsible!"

"Goddamn it... I told you to relax, boss!" Surgeon Rick retorted. "Do you wanna put them through the chemical-analysis machine yourself? They're just analgesics, they don't contain any addictive shit. Settle down, OK?"

When the room was quiet again, Rick downed two of the pills along with half the bottle of water. He spent several minutes blankly staring at the computer screen in front of him while he waited for the drugs to kick in and stole a glance in Morty's direction; the little boy was oblivious to his surroundings as he played with the toys that had come along with him in the crib. The scientist felt a sense of overwhelming guilt – it was painfully apparent that Morty was completely clueless about what had happened to him; he didn't seem to know or care about the foreign object that had been implanted in his neck, nor did he seem to care about anything else, now that he was in a warm safe place.

He was blissfully ignorant. Rick could only wish that he too felt the same way.

He spent more time staring at the bandages on his left hand while he gathered his thoughts regarding the intel reports and finally decided to start with the rudimentary information: describing the physical aspects of the Gromflomite species along with their caste system and society-designated functions. By the time he was done, he felt somewhere towards normal again. He finished off the other half of the water bottle and launched into a long-winded technical report regarding the Federation's weaponry and different types of transport ships, along with their fighting strategies. He also spent considerable effort describing their ambushing-swarm strategy simply because he had fallen for it more times than he wanted to admit.

Soon enough, a loud, resonating hum distracted everyone from what they were doing.

"Oh, snap! Dead guy in E-3551." Surgeon Rick was the first one to respond, only to go quiet again as he read the data from his computer in more detail. "Whoa, absolute carnage... whoever does this one is gonna need a shitload of bleach."

"What's the asking price?" Ricktus turned around in his chair and leaned his arm against the backrest. "Is it worth it?"

"Barely. Just a portal-gun retrieval and a DNA scrub because there ain't much left of him to retrieve." Surgeon Rick seemed disappointed. "Three hundred credits. So lame, man..."

Ricktus proudly smirked back at him. "On the contrary, C-711... it's an opportunity to put the hive to work again. You so easily forget that we have an entire shipload of insects that like to eat biological waste and carrion." He moved off his own chair.

"Actually, I try not to remember." Surgeon Rick grumbled. "They're gross and weird and I hate them."

"Here's what we're going to do," the doctor casually moved across the room and stood behind his assistant's chair. "I am in need of coffee because the shipment guy fucked up again. You can stay there and watch your new buddy-buddy that you love so much."

"H-hey!" Surgeon Rick swung around to protest. "Where are you getting that idea from?! I-I'm just following the objective, which was keeping him alive like you wanted! I already told you that!"

"Suuuuurrrre," Ricktus drew the word out in a mocking tone as the smirk grew even further across his face. "You don't have to lie to me; I've already seen the surveillance footage. I know where you've been and I have a fairly good idea of what you've been up to."

"HEY! What... w-what the fuck, man!? N-NO!" Surgeon Rick stumbled over his own words. "That's messed up and you know it! I-I did that to stop him from choking, that was all! What kind of Rick do you think I am?!"

Ricktus gently placed both hands on the surgeon's shoulders as a soft chuckle escaped his throat. "Relax, I'm just fucking with you. I don't give a shit what you choose to do with your free time." He patted him on the shoulder and headed for the doorway. "Winding you up never gets old. Stop making it so easy."

"Well you're in a good mood..." Surgeon Rick muttered. "Just for that, you're buying me breakfast!"

"Worth it." Ricktus gave him a devious smirk as he slipped around the corner.

"Fuckin' motherfuck bitch!" Surgeon Rick pounded both fists down on the table in front of him.

"Relax, it really wasn't that big of a deal." Rick swung around in his chair to face him. "Why'd you get so worked up about it? I already know you think I'm amazing, so who cares?"

"You know what?" As Surgeon Rick moved to his feet, he seemed to calm down a little. "You're right, I shouldn't be caring. I got shit to print out anyway..." He moved off to the far corner of the room.

Rick raised an eyebrow as he watched him go, finding his behavior odd; nothing had been said that should have logically made him react so strongly. He shrugged it off after another moment as a more-important thought came to mind; nobody was watching him anymore and he had unlimited access to the hundreds of computers in his immediate surroundings, which meant he could do some investigating of his own.

After a subtle glance back in Surgeon Rick's direction to make sure that he was well and truly occupied, the scientist moved across the desk and began accessing the database in the terminal left of the one he had just been working on. Once in the system, he ran a search query on the most pressing query on his mind: 'bees'. Over three-hundred journal-entry listings came up.

"Huh." Rick was vaguely impressed and knew that he could easily spend days going through them all. He clicked the top entry and decided to just start reading from the beginning, not really caring how long it might take.

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

 _ **Log Date:** 2000-06-25  
 **Author:** Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)  
 **Subject:** Nothing important – personal journal entry  
 **Risk Level:** N/A  
 **Classification:** Restricted_

 _After everything that has happened, I am surprised that I have managed to stay alive at all. Joining this stupid endeavor and getting involved in some other galaxy's war effort was a long shot, but it's the only option I have left. I need these idiots for their technology and they needed a medic because, apparently, they don't know how to avoid getting shot._

 _My new employers and this stupid ship are a bastardized mishmash of species whose only mark of superiority seems to be what gases you breathe and how many other lives you've taken. They have made their dislike of me very apparent by the fact they keep calling me derogatory names like 'bipedal trash' and 'filthy oxygen breather'. Perhaps they are hazing me because I am new and I suppose there is merit in the insults because the rest of my species is typically seen as under-evolved, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let them treat me like shit for very long. Maybe I can 'accidentally' forget to turn on the methane next time I'm dealing with one of them in triage?_

 _ **Note to self:** Encrypt these data entries before they accuse me of attempted murder._

 _I'm attempting to gain their trust and access to their superior cloning technology by the suggestion of creating a perpetually renewable energy source because what the ship runs on right now is embarrassingly outdated. I already have a solution and it's just a matter of waiting. I've been watching a tiny space bee that flies around planetoid TAL-39 with amazing potential and I want to map its entire genome so I can pull it apart._

 _I already know I can pull it off because I'm great at what I do. I just hope I can do it in a relatively timely manner because these aliens already bore me by existing._

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Rick quickly closed the journal entry and scooted back from the computer when he heard Surgeon Rick walking back towards his position. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he observed the other male return to his own workstation; it seemed that his caretaker either wasn't paying attention to what he was doing, or that he didn't care. Maybe it was both.

He settled back at the computer and decided to keep reading.

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

 _ **Log Date:** 2000-06-27  
 **Author:** Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)  
 **Subject:** Nothing important – personal journal entry  
 **Risk Level:** N/A  
 **Classification:** Restricted_

 _After just two days, my employers have decided that they need me to access the extended areas of the ship. Naturally, this was done so I could treat more of their sorry asses, but I can't help but wonder why they're so disorganized and bad at planning attack strategies – they keep getting their asses kicked. Fortunately for me all I have to do is process their dead, sew the living back up, or treat typical things like fractures and plasma burns while I pretend I don't give a shit about anything in the name of being clinical._

 _It's pretty easy to act like you don't give a shit when you don't give a shit._

 _Talk about progress; I am in luck! One of TAL-39's space bees (a scout/gatherer female) was attached to one of the corpses that came into the morgue after a failed reconnaissance mission. I have captured her in a specimen jar and successfully fed her using parts of the dead alien she was attached to. She is not a particularly noteworthy example of her species but she can survive in -455°F and that is still better than what I am capable of._

 _If my employers really wanted a biological, perpetually sustainable energy source, wouldn't it make sense to breed something that knows how to defend their ship, too?_

 _ **Note to self:** Make it look like a main project and then work on my side project while they're distracted. It won't take much because of how sidetracked they already are. I guess being embroiled in intergalactic warfare does that to you._

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Rick narrowed his eyes after reading the last lines; he was deeply intrigued and couldn't work out what he was alluding to. He supposed he would have to keep reading, which wasn't particularly difficult considering how deeply involved his caretaker was engrossed in his own work. He was about to open the next journal entry when he heard the sound of whistling as Ricktus casually sauntered back into the terminal room and he retreated across the desk once again.

"Hey, morons." As Ricktus made his way through the room, one of his insectoid experiments followed along with his every step. "Well, that went a lot better than anticipated. The whole job only took about five minutes once I got some members of the hive to eat the remaining evidence." He dumped a fast-food bag down on Surgeon Rick's desk. "There's breakfast as promised, now I don't owe you shit. Oh, and before I forget," he took a portal gun out of his coat pocket and tossed it next to the bag. "Disintegrate the core and dismantle the rest. Be careful though, it's still live."

"Wait..." Surgeon Rick picked up the portal gun and began to unscrew the bulb from the casing. "You actually got your damn bees to eat the dead Rick!? Gross! T-that's so fucked up, bro!"

Ricktus nearly lost his balance when the insectoid creature crawled up his back and perched on his shoulders. "If I had done the job with bleach as you suggested, I would have been there hours and scrubbing isn't really my thing." He reached across to gently scratch the fur on the side of the insect's head with the fingers of his left hand. "She's efficient, give her some credit."

"It's still fucking disgusting, dude..." Surgeon Rick sighed as he took the internal circuitry out of the portal gun and pulled it apart. "If you encourage them to eat dead Ricks, what's stopping them from taking a bite out of you in your sleep?"

"The fact that they can differentiate between living and dead organisms?" Ricktus smirked back at him, confident and full of himself. "How about the fact that they love me and think I'm their God? Besides," he turned his attention towards the insect, "Fleur knows better than to eat me. You wouldn't do that, would you?"

The insectoid responded with a loud squeak and stuck out her long, coiled tongue.

"Phhh!" Surgeon Rick snorted in disgust. "I dunno, boss. I'd start worrying if I were you. Have you seen how smart they are? One day they're gonna develop a culture and think about sacrificing us or some shit, I-I bet you anything!"

Ricktus actually had to laugh at the notion. "They're not that stupid, C-711. All they're interested in doing is making more of themselves and expanding their territory. Just like any other species, really."

"Yeah, you're not wrong..." Surgeon Rick set the portal-gun pieces aside and handed him the printouts he had made. "Before you go off on your next adventure, I think you might wanna read B-526's latest pathology report. We got decent a readout for the serum chemistry this time and the numbers are actually pretty concerning."

Rick sat up properly in his chair and turned his head to glare at him. "What do you mean?" He eyed off the paper bag of food, the smell wafting from it attracting both his interest and hunger.

"Uh..." Surgeon Rick ran a hand through his hair, suddenly looking quite troubled. "You wanna read it?"

Ricktus's good mood evaporated as he looked over the data. "I think I'd like to finish reading it for myself first... I still have the earlier report for comparison so don't worry about printing it out." He paced back towards his own table with the insect still perched on his shoulder, deep in thought and incredibly unhappy with what he was seeing.

Rick watched him walk away. "What's wrong? Whatever it is, it's probably nothing... I-I feel fine." It was a lie, but he was still blaming it on his hangover and didn't think it could possibly be as dire as they were making it out to be.

"You sure about that? Because you really shouldn't be." Surgeon Rick took a moment to glance back at his boss, then brought another copy of the data up on-screen. "Look, pathology ain't my main area of expertise, but I know enough to know when shit looks bad. A-and look at this fuckin' shit," he pointed at the screen, "it's bad."

"Wow, so eloquently put..." Rick got to his feet and moved over to take a better look, only to realize that pathology wasn't an area he was particularly well-versed in either. As his eyes scanned the data, all he could work out was that the red numbers either indicated deficiency or excess.

"It's actually not that bad, at least, not yet." Ricktus muttered thoughtfully as he leafed through the pages of the document. "I was expecting to see a sudden crash, but this is... unexpected. I'd like to collect more blood in approximately 48 hours from now because I want to monitor you and keep a record as more symptoms emerge." He was thinking aloud now. "Maybe there will be a pattern? Or maybe it's something new entirely?"

Rick growled at him. "I'm not your goddamned guinea pig! Just shut up and explain this one so I can tell you how wrong you are!"

"Still trying to be the mayor of 'I told you' town?" Ricktus couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Seems like you've got competition for your electorate."

"Shut the fuck up!" Rick spat back at him.

Surgeon Rick rolled his eyes; he could see where this was going and decided to put a stop to it. "Shit isn't supposed to drop gradually like this, brother. Lethal-radiation exposure just makes everything stop, like... your body can't manufacture cells anymore and you die. Anyway, your white-blood-cell count is shit," he pointed to the numbers on the monitor, "which means your immunity is fucked. And I'm gonna call bullshit on your whole 'feeling fine' crap, because your red-cell count is shit, too. You should be feeling dizzy and lethargic by now, and I actually don't suggest doing too much crazy crap until we get that under control."

"Here we go again..." Rick made a loud noise of mockery. "I know what's coming next. Y-you're gonna use those things as another excuse to keep me trapped here, right?"

"Actually," Ricktus decided to speak up this time and answer the question. "The ultimate goal is to release you. Although it seems counterproductive that I chose to hold onto you a little longer, you'll be free again soon enough. It's easy enough to dose you up with white cells and monitor you remotely once you're back out in the wild. You can come back as you get worse and we'll deal with it as it comes, as you said." His tone became firm and grumpy. "Just see that you actually stay true to your word... don't force me to capture you again."

"Fuck you!" Rick sharply retorted.

"That attitude is becoming awfully tiring, Rick." Ricktus warned him. "Everything we've done to you has been for your benefit, so the least you could do is show some goddamn gratitude."

"Actually, everything you've done has been for selfish motives." Rick snorted indignantly and folded his arms across his chest. " And the least I could do is nothing, which is what I plan to do."

"Wow..." Ricktus slowly shook his head. "While it's deeply reassuring to see that you still have so much fight in you, I really wish you'd use it to keep focused on the serious things." He made a low, frustrated sigh. "There is one last outstanding issue on the pathology report and you're not going to like it."

"Go on," Rick impatiently tapped his foot.

Ricktus turned to the back page. "Judging by the elevated-enzyme readouts I'm seeing here, it looks like your liver is struggling. It might be a sign that it's about to shut down, or maybe it's because you keep subjecting it to so much torture. While organ dysfunction and failure supports the plasma-radiation-poisoning theory, I want to keep an eye on it to see where it goes." He paused hesitantly. "You might want to consider laying off the alcohol until we can fix it."

"Yeah, not happening." Rick snatched up the paper bag from Surgeon Rick's table and took it back with him to his own computer. "Fuck your data."

"H-hey man, what did I do to deserve that?!" Surgeon Rick yelped at him. "Yesterday it was my muffin and now this? What's with you assholes and stealing my food!?"

"Let him keep it, C-711." Ricktus firmly instructed him. "He needs the calories far more than you do. In fact, you could even do with laying off the calories for a while."

"Wow, rude. I hate both of you, you know that?" Surgeon Rick angrily muttered. "Fuckin' jerks..."

"So you're gonna keep monitoring me, huh? How do you keep watch on the Ricks in the other dimensions?" Rick tore open the paper bag and started munching on the breakfast burger inside. "I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty fucking freaked out when you hacked my portal gun. Responding to me in real-time only made it worse, I-I thought you bugged the whole room or something."

"You really do ask a lot of questions, don't you?" Ricktus opened his top drawer and took out a device that looked like an overgrown virtual-reality headset. "Interdimensional goggles. They scan your retinas and match the wearer's DNA to let you see through the eyes of another you." He carefully placed the goggles into the mouth of the bee on his shoulder. "Fleur, take this over to the other me."

The bee sprang off her master and enthusiastically bounded across the floor. Once she had reached her destination, she hopped up onto the table and dumped the goggles down in front of her intended target along with a mouthful of sugary slobber.

Rick screwed his face up in disgust. "Pass. I... I'm just gonna trust your word on this one. I'm not gonna wear them now." He picked up the device by the strap and dumped it on the chair beside him. "Oh gross, it got on my keyboard, too!"

"Hey, none of them are perfect, but at least they're loyal." Ricktus snapped his fingers and pointed to his shoulder. "Come back here." He flinched when the insect clumsily landed on him once more, but didn't seem to mind too much.

Rick narrowed his eyes as he observed the interaction. "How can you tolerate that? It's huge and it could easily crush your skull with those pointy front limbs. Their claws also hurt when they took me down... t-they're gross. How can you stand them?"

"Yeah, we're in total agreement there..." Surgeon Rick grumbled.

"Shut it, C-711." Ricktus growled at him. "While I admit they're not much to look at, I guess you look on something rather favorably when you become involved with it." He carefully removed the insect from his shoulder and set her down on the floor beside his chair.

Rick was silent now; he wanted to learn more about what functions the insectoid creatures served, but he also knew he could either probe the doctor with more questions or continue reading his journal entries and acquire the answers that way; he figured he was close to finding them by now anyway.

He opted for the latter, as that would involve less talking.

The room was quiet again as the Ricks around him went on with their own work. Rick unplugged the syrup-covered keyboard and swapped it out for another to resume his own report writing, though he was finding it incredibly tedious by now; he already knew the information he was writing down and describing it in such a way so that another Rick could learn from it was becoming uninteresting and felt like a waste of his time. After making sure he wasn't being watched, he decided to get back into the same kind of snooping he was doing before.

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

 _ **Log Date:** 2000-07-15_  
 _ **Author:** Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)_  
 _ **Subject:** Nothing important – personal journal entry_  
 _ **Risk Level:** N/A_  
 _ **Classification:** Restricted_

 _I spend most of my days patching up these losers. While they are getting more organized in their battle tactics, the number of casualties always seems to be higher than what I can deal with alone – my resources are so far stretched that I am now sacrificing sleep to deal with their problems along with my own projects. Coffee has become my best friend._

 _My hard work continues to earn their respect and I have finally gained access to the cloning facility on the ship. They must have realized how useful I am and they know their ship cannot outrun the forces that are trying to pursue them so now they are actively pushing me into researching my alternative fuel source._

 _In the first experiment I conducted, I dropped my little bee friend straight into the hyperbaric-cloning chamber. She died immediately but the machine cloned her approximately 100,000 times in the space of three minutes. Whoops. I guess her small biomass and lack of DNA complexity was a factor? Next time I will be sure to read the instruction manual._

 _I wonder how quickly these things would be able to clone a human? I will find out soon enough and this excites me. Maybe I have half a chance of fixing my mistake._

 _After trying to explain to my superiors why their cloning facility was full of angry space bees trying to sting them, I tried to put a positive spin on the situation – how can you be upset when a room is full of bees? Among all the species on planet Earth, they are one of the most efficient and functional. Each hive member knows their purpose and they all work in perfect harmony. Nobody ever heard of a homicidal or depressed bee._

 _They are so very unlike the human race, which is fucked up and I'm glad that I don't live on planet Earth anymore._

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

"Well, that escalated quickly..." Rick mumbled aloud to himself as he clicked the next journal entry down the line.

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

 _ **Log Date:** 2000-07-17  
 **Author:** Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)  
 **Subject:** Genome sequencing / DNA splicing  
 **Risk Level:** N/A  
 **Classification:** Restricted_

 _It has been just over a month... I still haven't been back to Earth. I'm not even sure I can._

 _My employers have hired more medical staff, which means I am allowed to devote more time to my fuel-source project. After dissecting more of my little bee friends (we're still finding them alive in the ducting system), I was able to extract several viable samples for DNA splicing. They are already rugged enough to survive space itself so my next task is simple – making them bigger._

 _While the first round of DNA tweaks successfully enlarged them in size, they became prone to spontaneously combusting when exposed to the methane atmosphere outside the cloning facility. While I'm sure my superiors could probably benefit from weaponizing incendiary bees, that is not the point of this experiment._

 _I need more coffee and less bees that set themselves on fire._

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

 _ **Log Date:** 2000-07-29_  
 _ **Author:** Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)_  
 _ **Subject:** IT'S A FUCKING FAILURE_  
 _ **Risk Level:** N/A_  
 _ **Classification:** Restricted_

 _I can't do this anymore. I had high hopes for this project in the beginning but it's just turning into a fucking disaster. This ship and its technology was my last chance at trying to atone for my mistakes but if I can't succeed on something as rudimentary as an insect, what hope do I have of altering the genome of a human?_

 _No matter how many times I try playing with the DNA of the goddamned bees, something undesirable always happens with the end result. Making them bigger makes them more fragile and altering their carapace density causes them to become brittle. They also don't do well when exposed to heat – every single one of them explodes in temperatures higher than 45°C/113°F. Millions of years of evolution has forged them into perfection, so what chance do I have at making them better? I can't._

 _The only solution to this problem would be to add something else entirely, but what?_

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

"Hey, B-526, question for you." Ricktus's voice broke through the quiet of the room. "You've killed a lot of things, haven't you?"

"Well, that came outta nowhere." Rick quickly closed the journal-entry window and turned around to face him. "But yeah, I-I guess I have. Why do you ask?"

Ricktus didn't even wait before launching straight into it. "How would you go about murdering a lifeform that was mainly water? We're talking over ninety-five percent of its total biomass," he quickly added, "hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Freeze it." Rick suggested after a moment of silent consideration.

"Hmm... no, that wouldn't work." Ricktus tapped his chin, deep in thought. "The planet is mostly ice. They already live in sub-zero conditions."

"This is becoming awfully specific." Rick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "This is no longer a hypothetical, is it? Are you trying to get me to do your work for you?"

"Yes," Ricktus nodded, not even bothering trying to hide it anymore. "One of the Council's business partners has a bounty on his head and has been captured. He wants us to get him out before he can be handed over to the authorities. If they get his portal gun, then there's no saying what could happen... it's bad, Rick."

"I see..." Rick frowned, but the whole scenario had already stirred his mind enough to start trying to solve it. "What kind of neural network does this lifeform have?"

"I'll patch the species data across to your terminal." Ricktus swung around in his chair and began hurriedly typing away at his keyboard. "Have you ever heard of Korblocks? They're bright-yellow, slug-like aliens, and they're usually space pirates and looters in most dimensions. They're also gelatinous and can't be effectively killed with plasma rounds. Plasma typically burns straight through them."

"Ugh, Korblocks... yeah, I've had run-ins with them before." Rick muttered in distaste. "You could try electrocuting them, but the amount of power you'd need would be impractical to carry around, i-it wouldn't even be portable." He gritted his teeth in annoyance. "I assume you're doing this stealthily, yeah?"

"Yes," Ricktus nodded. "We're aiming to get in and out before anyone even knows what's going on."

"Hmm..." Rick was conflicted; he knew he had no good reason to help this particular version of himself, but he did not want a portal gun to end up in the wrong hands - there was really no arguing with the Council on that one as much as he didn't like them. "Your best option would be to dry them out." He said finally.

"What? Really?"

"Have you ever seen a jellyfish on the beach?" The scientist quickly explained his reasoning. "They're about ninety-five-percent water, too. They don't survive long out of the ocean, so... desiccate them." He nodded as he thought through it again. "It wouldn't even be hard to build a desiccation ray. I could do it in my sleep."

"Holy shit, Rick, that... that would actually work. Why didn't I think of it?" Ricktus sat up properly, suddenly full of enthusiasm. "You're a goddamned genius!"

"Well, duh." Rick was suddenly smug. "Smartest guy in the universe, hello? Didn't you get the memo?"

Ricktus ignored him as he resumed fervently mashing the keys at his computer.

Rick took note of how easily he was distracted and resumed reading. "Tch... that's just sad."

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

 _ **Log Date:** 2000-07-05_  
 _ **Author:** Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)_  
 _ **Subject:** No._  
 _ **Risk Level:** N/A_  
 _ **Classification:** Restricted_

 _He would have been a month old today._

 _I have lost just about everything important to me and I can feel the energy draining from my body every day. I don't have the fire to fuel myself anymore and instead of science and the pursuit of knowledge driving me on, it has all become meaningless. I'm tired of feeling this way. What's the point?_

 _Who am I kidding? I was never going to get anywhere with this ship or the bees and I was a fool for kidding myself into thinking I could make anything better._

 _I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again._

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

As Rick stared at the last line of the journal entry, he realized that he was no longer breathing; it sounded far too familiar to his own sentiments. As he let out a tense sigh and rubbed at his eyes with his bandaged hand, it was becoming apparent that he had been following the wrong keyword. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to pursue the direction his next search would probably take him, so he sat there for a few moments as his fingers hovered over the letters, silently cursing his curiosity as he finally typed them in: 'Mortimer'.

Twenty-five entries appeared.

He clicked the one at the top of the listing, knowing full well he was prying into things that definitely did not concern him now.

He had to know.

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

 _ **Log Date:** 2000-06-05  
 **Author:** Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)  
 **Subject:** Mortimer  
 **Risk Level:** N/A  
 **Classification:** Classified_

 _Against all odds, the universe has finally granted me all I could ever ask for - Elizabeth has given me a grandchild. I would have had another over three years ago but she decided to terminate. As much as I would have liked that, it was not my call to make._

 _She has chosen to name him 'Mortimer' though I'm not quite sure why. I'm also not sure I care, because all I am focused on is trying to save him._

 _We all knew this day was coming. All the way from the beginning we knew this pregnancy was a risk but after the first one, Elizabeth decided to go through with it anyway. The first ultrasound revealed a massive, congenital defect involving abnormalities of the heart valves. Although operable, it will be expensive and extremely delicate. Thank fuck Elizabeth knows a doctor who knows how to do that, right?_

 _I've tried not to blame the defect on Jerry even though such things are linked to genetics and I know this did not come from our side of the family. Why the hell did she choose him again?_

 _Despite the feeling of morose hanging over everyone's heads, I am confident that this issue can be resolved._

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Rick nearly jumped off his chair when a foam stress ball suddenly crashed down onto his keyboard. "What the hell?!" He quickly worked out its trajectory and turned his head in the direction of Surgeon Rick to shoot him a glare. "What the fuck was that for?!"

"Wasn't me." Surgeon Rick shrugged back at him, feigning ignorance. "That could have come from anywhere."

Rick spent another moment staring hard at him to express his intense disapproval, then let it go. "Phh... whatever. What are you, ten years old o-or something?" He closed the journal entry and occupied himself with adding more information to one of the earlier reports. When he heard a loud, shattering pop at his feet, a glance at the floor revealed glass shards around his chair complete with a red cap; somebody had just thrown a vacuum blood-collection tube at him. "Oh, COME ON!"

Surgeon Rick chuckled but continued to pretend his innocence. "My, where did that come from?" He pointed a finger in the direction of the doctor. "Either one of us could have dropped that, you food-stealing bitch."

"That does it!" Rick was on his feet with a loud growl and reached him in two angry strides. In one swift movement, he grabbed his dimensional counterpart by the shoulder and shoved him down onto the table to express the fact he wasn't going to tolerate such behavior. He immediately regretted the action as he remembered that this Rick was already too much of a pushover and didn't want to perpetuate more of the same treatment he already received from his boss. Instead, he chose to turn it in another direction entirely; he started to poke him in the ribs with his free hand and play along with his stupid game.

"How do you like that, huh?!" Rick bared his teeth in a grin and emphasized his words with a far-less-aggressive shove from the arm that was already pinning the surgeon down. "Yeah, I got you now! What are you gonna do about it!?"

"O-oh my god, STOP!" Surgeon Rick howled in protest, only to break into a fit of loud gravelly laughter. "Not the ribs, bro, fuck! A-anything but that!" He flailed out his arms in the attempt to shove him away.

Rick easily grabbed one of them and twisted it behind his back. "Who's the bitch now!?"

"You fucker, my arm doesn't bend that way!" Surgeon Rick cried out in between laughs. "Fucking stop, bro! Oww! I yield! I YIELD!"

Meanwhile, Ricktus had turned around in his chair and raised his eyebrows at the scene unfolding before him, not knowing what to make of it. "Do I have to come over there and break that up?"

Rick gave his victim one final shove as he moved off him, though it was legitimately playful this time. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He returned to his chair and resumed where he had left off as if nothing had happened.

Surgeon Rick sat up properly again, still thoroughly amused by the scuffle. "Not sure if I like that title." He rubbed his side. "Oh man, that actually hurt, you know... I am soooo gonna have to do something to your room when you're not looking."

"Try me." Rick challenged in reply, his tone legitimately serious.

Ricktus shook his head after deeming the exchange to be non-hostile. "It's nice to see you finally getting along with somebody over there, C-711."

"Hey, yeah, about that... remember when I got along with you, boss?" Surgeon Rick's grin faded as he cast a glance back in his direction. "That was back before you turned into a giant douchebag."

Ricktus made a soft, discontent sound as he turned around in his chair once more.

"It doesn't have to be that way, y'know." Surgeon Rick offered, all sense of amusement gone by now. "I'm on your side."

"Shut up and get back to work."

"You used to be cool," Surgeon Rick continued, though he knew he was already pushing it. "Is shit getting to you? It's OK to admit you need a vacation, you know. I can go back to the Citadel and hire more Ricks to make this go along faster."

"NO." Ricktus's tone became authoritative and icy cold. "We're already running a huge enough risk as it is with the three of us here. What do you think is going to happen if there's even more of us? Besides, I don't want to split the payments from the Council any more than we have to. Don't you understand that?" He let out a heavy sigh and his voice became much quieter than before. "I appreciate your concern, C-711... but my answer is no. Now... shut the fuck up and get back to it."

"Yeah boss," Surgeon Rick replied curtly. "Anything you say." He grumpily put his head down and resumed working.

Rick shook his head; there was obviously a lot more going on than what he knew about. In another moment, he decided it didn't matter and picked up the stress ball to lob back at Surgeon Rick for no reason other than to distract him from his sour mood.

"Hey, what the fuck!?"

Rick snickered and raised his right hand to extend his middle finger to him. "Unlike you, I have enough balls to admit that was me," he paused to give him a wide, toothy grin. "Bitch."

"Oho, it is ON now." Surgeon Rick declared, half-mocking, half-serious. "You are gonna fuckin' get it. I'm not gonna tell you when or how, but when it happens, you'll know."

"I look forward to it." Rick flattened his brow as low as it would go.

"Lucky for you, I got a core to disintegrate, so it'll be a nice surprise when you least expect it." Surgeon Rick picked up the portal-gun pieces on his desk and headed for the door. "Hey boss, watch the bro and his Morty, OK? See you fuckers later, I'm gonna go blow something up!"

Ricktus ignored him completely.

Rick sat in the quiet of the room after Surgeon Rick's departure. He spent a short amount of time checking up on Morty, who had fallen asleep amongst his toys. With a soft chuckle, he ran his fingers through the boy's soft head of hair and dragged the crib to the side of his chair so he could keep one hand on him while he resumed reading.

The next five journal entries he skimmed through were little more than detailed descriptions of delicate, cardiac-surgery procedures on newborn babies, along with raw data containing survival rates following organ transplants.

What Rick read next made him feel sick to the core.

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

 _ **Log Date:** 2000-06-11_  
 _ **Author:** Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)_  
 _ **Subject:** WELL FUCK_  
 _ **Risk Level:** N/A_  
 _ **Classification:** Classified_

 _Six days. Nobody's life should be only six days long. This isn't fair. Poor little bastard never even made it outside the hospital to see the light of day. And what is worse, I have to live with the fact that I'm responsible for ending two lives instead of just one._

 _The universe was against me the whole time it seems; the only way I could have saved Mortimer was to replace that which was broken. I'm trying to tell myself that it didn't matter because his heart was going to fail regardless of what I did, but nothing will ever excuse me from murdering another person's child as well; I forged documents to conveniently 'find' a donor._

 _Not that there was any point - Mortimer was far too weak and did not survive the surgery._

 _Elizabeth doesn't even know he's dead. I grabbed the damn corpse from the OT before anyone could work out what was happening and used my portal gun to get the fuck out of there. Nobody has a fucking clue anyway, so who cares?_

 _In my haste, I got careless. There had to be a better way, but instead I killed him. I can't go back until I fix this mess. I don't know how yet, but I WILL do something._

 _ **Note to self:** Delete this eventually, as it practically convicts me of murder._

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

"Holy shit..." Rick's eyes widened after he had finished reading the journal entry. "Holy fucking shit..." His mind was racing as it all finally clicked together.

"Something wrong over there?" Ricktus called out to him from across the room.

Rick was silent for a short time. "You genuinely think you killed your Morty, don't you?"

"You... y-you don't listen very well, do you?" Ricktus sank in his posture, but kept his back turned and his expression concealed from view. "I told you not to speak of it. Why did you have to bring that up...?"

Rick didn't answer. He had expected an outburst of rage or similar emotion, but all he heard now was silence. It all suddenly made sense; everything from the reason why Ricktus was so emotionally charged and had such a favorable opinion of his Morty to why he had so readily announced that he wanted to kill him when they first met. The scientist mentally kicked himself over how obvious it all was now; no wonder Surgeon Rick knew about the current market value of a Morty - the doctor was using the Council and the derelict ship as a means to earn enough credits for another one and the price of Rick's survival was just another means to that end. Even his constant foul temper and the reason for treating his assistant so badly made sense; he must have been becoming discouraged at how slowly his progress was coming along.

Rick wasn't angry about it; he vaguely admired it. He himself had done so many crazy things to ensure Morty's survival and he knew he would have gone to similar extremes had his universe placed him in similar circumstances.

"For somebody who seems so intent on demanding privacy, you are awfully keen to invade the privacy of another." Ricktus finally spoke again. "I-I thought I told you not to mess around with my terminals, so of course you would... I was practically asking for it, wasn't I? I should have deleted all that crap a long time ago..."

"You seriously think you killed your Morty?" Rick frowned as he pushed the question a second time, unwilling to let it go. "OK, so what you did to try and save him wasn't great, but... I-I guess I understand it." He began to reason through the outstanding points as he thought aloud. "When it didn't go your way, you covered your tracks and came here to clone him. But something happened to the ship, didn't it?"

Ricktus remained silent.

"When your first plan didn't work out, well, actually it would have been your second, you went to the Council of Ricks to buy one instead." Rick went on. "But that isn't going well either, is it? Holy fucking shit, it all makes sense now..." He paused in thought. "Uh, you're not still interested in trying to kill me, are you? Because that's one of the only things you've been upfront about."

"No..." Ricktus sighed in defeat.

"Why not?" Rick raised an eyebrow in genuine curiosity. "Because I'd totally kill me if I was gonna get a free Morty out of it."

"I-it's complicated," frustration rose in the doctor's voice. "Sure, I wanted to kill you at first, and for exactly the reason you said. You're the closest I've ever gotten to an available Morty, shit..." He shook his head. "But that's not how it works. Besides, Riq IV gave the order to keep you alive and I couldn't kill you even if I wanted to."

"Why not?"

"Look how happy your Morty is when he's around you," as Ricktus finally turned around in his chair, the pained expression on his face just visible enough to be noticeable. "How can I take that away from him? How...?" He pulled the glasses off his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're everything to him... that's why you need to stay alive."

Rick narrowed his eyes in thought. "Is that the real reason you want me alive? Other than the 2.1-million, bullshit credits?"

"I didn't do anything for your benefit, Rick..." The doctor's expression hardened. "You think that first care package was for you? I knew it would fuck with your mind, but... everything was for Morty's sake. Everything still is."

Rick made a loud noise of mockery. "You know you didn't kill him, right?"

"Yes, I did."

"No," Rick's tone became harsh and cranky. "You didn't. A congenital defect is just something that happens, i-it's nobody's fault. You didn't kill him, but sounds like you're blaming yourself because it's easy."

"Shut up!" Ricktus suddenly snapped at him. "I don't need your pity!"

Surgeon Rick casually wandered back into the room, only to stop as he heard the tail-end of the conversation. "Whoa, hey, bad time to come in? I wasn't even gone long. What the hell is wrong now?"

"Why don't you tell him?" Rick folded his arms across his chest. "Have you even bothered to?"

"Tell me what?" Surgeon Rick blinked in confusion. "Something going on, boss?"

"Look, I don't know what the fuck is going on between you two," Rick gave Surgeon Rick a sharp glare, then turned it on Ricktus, "I don't even have a reason to care, but it's fucking annoying to listen to. Fix your damn friendship and keep your lackey informed, o-or get rid of him because you're making him miserable."

Both Ricks went quiet; Surgeon Rick cast his gaze off to the side and muttered something unintelligible under his breath, while Ricktus just stared back at the scientist, his true feelings concealed with a deep scowl.

"There must be some kinda respect thing going on there, right?" Rick continued. "Does he even know why you're getting him to work here?"

"Dude, what are you even going on about?" Surgeon Rick frowned. "What is he talking about, boss?"

Ricktus slowly shook his head. "C-711 already knows I killed my Morty..."

"Oh... OH. Ooooh..." Surgeon Rick bit his lower lip. "Not a good subject to talk about, dude. Why are you reading up on shit like that?"

Rick almost seemed disappointed. "Phh... whatever. So that's one thing he knows about, but my point still stands." Rick pointed towards the doctor. "This guy treats you like shit and you let him. How many other things does he keep hidden from you? How much danger are you in by working here? If you have any ounce of respect for each other, you'd stop this bullshit charade and settle your differences. It's... i-it's counterproductive to fight over everything! You sound like an old married couple!"

"C-711," Ricktus nodded at Surgeon Rick to get his attention. "Go get B-526's portal-gun parts and his care package. It sounds like he's ready to be released."

"I, uh..." Rick's arms dropped to his sides, completely taken aback by the words. "What? How did you reach that conclusion? Was it something I said?"

"No," Ricktus swiveled around in his chair again, his back facing the others in the room. "I just don't want to listen to you anymore."

"Harsh, boss..." Surgeon Rick shook his head. "Harsh..."

"Well fuck you, too!" Rick spat back at the doctor. "If you wanna wallow in self-pity over something you had no control over on a derelict piece of shit in the middle of fucking nowhere, then that's your prerogative... b-but don't drag someone else down with you!"

"Get out of here, Rick..." The doctor's voice was very tired and weary. "Make sure you return again in 48 hours. The assistant is competent enough to administer you with a booster dose of white cells, so I don't need to do anything. You already have the coordinates to get back to the ship's portal hub, so... just go."

"Hey," Surgeon Rick moved across to nudge Rick in the shoulder. "Come on, bro. I'm sure you're actually glad to be able to leave, right? Besides, you've already said enough."

"Yeah, clearly." Rick growled the words out as he got to his feet and picked Morty up, who had peacefully slept through the entire ordeal. "Show me out. I'm done here."

* * *

Surgeon Rick led the scientist into the electronics lab and promptly disappeared down one of the aisles of shelving to retrieve the remaining pieces of his portal gun. After laying them out across the workbench, he stood back to watch him restore it, vaguely impressed at how quick and accurate he was with a soldering gun.

"This battery isn't identical to the old one," Rick grumbled as he held it up to the light. "But it'll fit inside the handle and that's all that matters." He leaned over the bench and carefully installed it in position.

"You still gotta put in a self-destruct mechanism, dude." Surgeon Rick gently prompted him. "Even if you don't join the Citadel, it's too big of a risk, especially with somebody as wanted as you."

"Gimme a week to figure it out." Rick replied. "If I'm wrong about not being sick, then you can just take it from my dead body and dismantle it like you do to all the others."

There was a loud clattering of plastic objects across the floor as Morty climbed up onto the lowest shelf nearby the workbench. Now that he was awake and alert, all he wanted to do was play and get into everything within his reach.

"Glad to see he's feeling better," Surgeon Rick laughed at him. "You OK down there, little guy? Do you need me to come over there and stop you?"

"Leave him be." Rick shrugged. "If he's not eating anything he shouldn't, then who cares? It keeps him happy." He held up the near-complete portal gun and sighed; it felt so good just to have it back. Ever the suspicious person he was, he pulled the bulb off and began to check the internals of the device over for bugs and signs of tampering; it had been out of his reach for far too long and anything could have happened to it.

Surgeon Rick observed the behavior and rolled his eyes. "Ugh, please... you don't have to do that. Now that we're all on the same page, there's no reason for the boss to fuck with your shit any longer. You held onto the datapad, didn't you? We can just send interdimensional communications to that from now on."

Rick narrowed his eyes back at him, still highly suspicious. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure about that." Surgeon Rick huffed in reply. "Look, I know you don't trust him, but I do... he's a good guy. If you won't go back on your word, then neither will he." He lowered his head slightly and reached up to rub the back of his head. "Thanks for what you said back there, i-it means a lot to me."

"No problem." Rick gave the circuit boards another quick inspection, then slotted them back into the portal-gun casing. "You should stand up for yourself more, though... it's embarrassing to watch. You're a Rick, aren't you? You should start acting like one."

"Look, now that you're gonna go free, do you wanna, uh... do you think you'd... um." Surgeon Rick stopped, not knowing how to say what he wanted to. He made an uncomfortable sound in the back of his throat and was silent again.

Rick raised his head to look up at him, then narrowed his eyes. "Just spit it out."

"I was kinda hoping we could be friends, y'know?" Surgeon Rick glanced off to the side. "I-If you wanted to, that is. I don't have many and it gets really boring around here. It would be cool to have another drinking buddy and someone who could teach me how to make bombs and stuff." He sounded hopeful.

"You don't know how to do that?" Rick raised an eyebrow, surprised; he had assumed it was second-nature to all the Ricks on other timelines.

"Nah, man." Surgeon Rick admitted, sounding disappointed. "It's part of the road not taken, I-I never learned how. But I wanna, because it could come in handy one day. Blowing shit up is awesome, y'know?"

Rick grunted appreciatively; at least they shared that opinion.

"Only if you wanna, that is." Surgeon Rick hastily added. "But you gotta be free first, because otherwise the boss is gonna accuse you of having Stockholm Syndrome."

"Phhh, was that all?" Rick returned his attention to the portal gun and screwed the bulb back into the casing. "I think we've established some kind of friendship already, so you didn't even have to ask. You're annoying as fuck, but you're genuine." He paused in thought. "I like that."

"Aww shit yeah, bro!" Surgeon Rick whooped with happiness. "You're the be-"

"BUT," Rick interjected. "Don't expect me to be subordinate to your boss. Don't ask me to wear one of those shitty silver pins that the Council tried offering me, either. I'm not playing by your rules because I do what I want," he growled, "and you should consider doing the same. Grow a pair, OK?"

"I'll take it under advisement." Surgeon Rick chuckled. "Phew, I was worried I was never gonna see you again."

"I'm not actually sure you're gonna get rid of me so easily." Rick stated as he checked over the portal gun one last time before turning it on. "You guys seem intent on fixing me, and there's obviously still more shit going on that I wanna know about."

Surgeon Rick's eyes widened as he backed up towards the door. "Oh yeah, fixing you... holy shit, I nearly forgot. You OK with hanging out there for a sec?"

"Ugh..." Rick shook his head in mock disgust. "You're gonna make me wait even longer? The hell is wrong with you?"

Surgeon Rick did not answer and dashed around the corner. He returned only thirty seconds later with a hypodermic syringe filled with a milky-white suspension. "This shit's gonna sting, but it'll keep you protected until we can fix your immunity problem." He stepped back over to the other and rolled up his sleeve. "Sorry in advance."

Rick made his intense disapproval for the syringe known but offered no protest when it was administered; he knew it was necessary. After it was done, he simply pulled the sleeve of his shirt and lab coat back down and began to punch in the coordinates back to Bird World in Dimension B-526.

"So this is really it, isn't it?" Surgeon Rick moved away to dispose of the medical waste. "How do you think they're gonna react when you go back?"

"Don't care," Rick fired the portal gun at the nearest wall and nodded in approval when he saw the shimmering, watery portal adhere to it. "The only person I give a shit about in that dimension anymore is Birdperson. Once he knows I'm alive, I guess I can go from there."

"What are you gonna do now that you're free to go anywhere and do anything?"

"Haven't really thought about it..." Rick mumbled as he cast his gaze down towards Morty. "We can always just focus on trying not to die first." He waved him over. "Come on, little buddy. We're leaving."

Morty looked up from his pile of plastic ship-part spares and clumsily waded through the mess to get closer to his grandfather. He stared up at Surgeon Rick and silently regarded him, then finally settled his attention back on Rick.

Rick crouched down beside him. "See that, Morty?" He pointed ahead to the portal. "That's your gateway to adventure. Walk into the swirling vortex whenever you see one, 'cause it'll take you somewhere awesome." He gently nudged him forwards. "Go on, little buddy. You can do it."

Morty warily looked at the green, shimmery mass of light and made a soft noise in his uncertainty. He promptly retreated to the safety of his grandfather's side, completely unwilling to go any further.

Rick sighed at him. "What are you scared of? Portals aren't dangerous, they're fun."

"Looks like he still needs more time." Surgeon Rick picked up the care package and headed over to the portal. "Should I just toss this through?"

"Y-yeah, go for it." Rick stayed still for another moment before concluding that Surgeon Rick was right; Morty was still too young and he didn't want to force a potentially unpleasant experience onto him, so he opted to pick him up and set him over his shoulder instead. "You win this round, buddy. But there's nothing to be afraid of, OK? One day you're gonna grow up to love these things, I promise you."

Morty clung onto the collar of his grandfather's lab coat and snuggled into him, seeking his warmth and familiar scent. Now that he felt secure, he calmed down completely.

"You're a goddamn coward, Morty." Rick shook his head. "One day we'll go on all kinds of crazy adventures and I'll show you that there's nothing to be afraid of. You got that?" He headed for the portal and raised a hand up to wave back at the other Rick. "See you around."

"Yeah," Surgeon Rick waved back at him. "See ya later, fucker."

After the portal had collapsed inwards on itself, the surgeon was left to stand in the dim light of the room and he felt a mixture of pride and sadness; on one hand, he had helped a Rick to survive and gained a friend and an ally in the process, but on the other, he was alone without him.

At least he could take small comfort in the fact that he would see him again.


	20. Rickturn Of The Squanch

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** I don't own Rick and Morty broh! Don't sue me broh! Don't taze me broh! See earlier chapters for previous copyright stuff.

 **NOTE:** Yay I kept it under 9k for once! Enjoy a slightly more light-hearted chapter for once.

* * *

 _Don't know where your mind is, baby  
_ _but you're better off without it_

 _Looks like it's time to decide  
_ _Are you here?  
_ _Are you now?  
_ _Is this it?_

 _All of those selves that you tried  
_ _Wasn't one of them good enough?_

 _\- Upside Down & Inside Out – OK Go_

* * *

 **Chapter 20 – Rickturn Of The Squanch  
** **  
** **November 28th, 5:02am, Local Time, 2001  
Underneath Birdperson's Tree  
** **Bird World, Dimension B-526**

* * *

It had been early evening on the ship when Rick had departed Dimension Q-316. Now he found himself looking at the dawn of the same day over the horizon on Bird World, and the air was warm and thick with humidity; the tropical climate was already uncomfortable enough to remind him of how much he hated it. The scientist did a quick calculation in his head for the coordinates to the landing of Birdperson's tree house and fired another portal at the base of the tree after inputting them into the portal gun.

"There's no way in hell I'm climbing that thing ever again if I can help it." Rick smirked as he kicked the care package through the swirling green vortex. "Come on Morty, let's go up. With some luck, Birdperson is still asleep and we can sneak in a nap before he knows we're here." He stepped into the portal and reappeared at the front door of the tree house.

After carefully setting Morty down on the wooden boards beside him, he dragged the box in through the front door. It was at that moment that Rick made note of two interesting observations; the floor of Birdperson's living room was littered with wooden shipping crates, and there was a small, dusty-orange, anthropomorphic feline-like creature fast asleep on the couch.

"Ugh, Squanchy... great. What is he doing here?" Rick muttered aloud, not entirely happy to see him; although Squanchy had always been an ally to him through thick and thin, it still didn't stop him from finding him almost unbearable to deal with. He was also far too obnoxious for his liking and his liberal usage of the word 'squanch' often became grating to listen to. He had a burning desire to know what he was even doing on Bird World, but the urge to get away was even stronger.

"Come on, Morty." Rick told the little boy in a low murmur, not wanting to wake the feline up. "Let's get outta here before he sees us... I-I still wanna take that nap." His pace quickened as he took the box with him into the hallway.

Morty watched his grandfather leaving and stopped in front of the couch, his gaze fixed on the creature's tail. "Oooh..." He watched it flicker back and forth, then reached out to grab it. "Eeee!"

"Morty, what are you doing!?" Rick stopped in his tracks, then turned around to harshly whisper at him. "Get your ass over here!"

Morty looked back at the spiky-haired man and chose to disobey his instructions. He gave the slender tail a delicate tug and tried to pop the fur-tufted end into his mouth.

"Morty!" Rick hissed in anger.

The feline creature gave a loud yowl as he was startled awake. In one swift movement, he sprang off the couch and tumbled down over the back of it. "What the squanch was that!?" A moment later, he cautiously peered around the side and locked his beady, yellow eyes on the little boy. When he turned his head and noticed Rick, his face lit up in a wide, toothy grin. "Sanchez!? Oh my squanch, it IS you, ya' sly old bag of squanch! Glad to see you're not dead after all!"

"Hey, Squanchy..." Rick replied in an unimpressed tone, his brows low and flat. He really didn't have the patience to deal with him right now, but the last statement was enough to pique his curiosity. "Wait, what?"

"And who's this little bag of squanch?" Squanchy moved to stand next to the youngster, only to laugh when he watched him retreat towards his grandfather. "Not very squanchy, is he?"

"Uh, that's my grandson, Morty. He's... gonna be hanging around with me." Rick reached down to pick Morty up and set him over his shoulder to keep him calm. "Everyone thinks I'm dead?"

"Yeah, man." Squanchy nodded as his grin faded again. "It's bad. Everyone's real upset about it. They all thought you were a goner." He sat back down on the couch and lowered his head. "News travels fast around the galaxy. After I heard about what happened to your planet, I squanched my ass over here as fast as I could, but I was already too late..."

Rick grunted in disapproval, but at least it had answered his question.

"Birdperson told me what happened," the feline creature went on, "but we didn't believe that anything could squanch the Great Rick Sanchez so easily, you know?"

"Well, yeah. It would take a lot more than an inferior parallel version of myself to kill me, but it's not like I'm invincible. Besides, he didn't want to kill me, at least, uh... it's complicated." Rick sighed in frustration and carried Morty with him to the couch, as he conceded to the fact that he would have to talk to the feline creature after all; now that he'd been spotted, there really was no slipping away. "I-it's been an interesting couple of days..." He shook his head, not even knowing how to begin explaining that one.

"Oh man, Sanchez... you have no idea how happy everyone's gonna be!" Squanchy laughed suddenly and threw his paws in the air. "Yeaaahh! And Birdperson's gonna be so squanchin' relieved. You should totally get out there and tell him!"

"You mean he's not here?" Rick raised an eyebrow, finding the new information unusual; he had never known Birdperson to be out of his tree house while it was still dark outside. Still, he didn't mind, and now he had a viable excuse to take off again.

"Nah, man." Squanchy quickly shook his head. "He squanched off just before the dawn. They're all out workin' and doing some other squanch I don't know much about."

Rick let out another long, irritated sigh; Squanchy's substitution of verbs usually made enough sense if he thought about them, but he was fast losing his patience with the whole conversation. "I was only gone for what... two or three days? Is something going on that I should know about?"

"Why don't you just go out there and squanch for yourself?" Squanchy chuckled at him. "I'd come with ya, but I totally gotta stay here and guard the squanch."

"What?" Rick narrowed his eyes in confusion, then waved a hand as if to dismiss it entirely. "Phh, you know what? Forget it." He held onto Morty as he moved off the couch again and headed for the hallway.

"Squanchin' hell, Sanchez." Squanchy stared at the bandages on his left hand. "What'd you do to yourself?"

"It's not important." Rick replied in a short tone that suggested he wasn't going to talk about it. "I'll go find Birdperson myself, just give me some directions."

"They're all workin' at some village, I think?" Squanchy shrugged again, for he hadn't really been paying attention. "Birdperson's been goin' there a lot since I got here. Says it's real important for the fate of the galaxy or some squanch."

"That's... t-that's not useful to me." Rick scowled as he stopped and turned around again. "Come on, Squanchy, think! How am I supposed to find him with that kind of info!?"

"Squanchin' hell, Sanchez!" Squanchy yelped back at him. "That's all I know! Don't squanch me!"

Rick made a loud huff and stomped off down the hallway again; he hadn't even been back on Bird World for ten minutes and he was already over it.

* * *

Rick found himself staring at the walls of the spare nest room the instant he had walked in; somebody had removed every last one of his blueprints and only the thumbtacks remained. While he had been meaning to take them down at some point anyway, he couldn't help but wonder if it had been done for a specific reason in his absence.

"Something's definitely going on here, Morty..." The scientist thought aloud to himself as he paced towards the table to inspect it, only to discover that everything was untouched. He picked up the tiny, wooden spaceship that had been left to dry out after his run-in with the storm and gently tossed it over to the little boy. "This is yours, kiddo. I-I don't know what's going on, but there's only one way to find out."

Morty immediately pounced on the toy. After picking it up in his little hands, he lobbed it back at his grandfather with a loud, joyful squeal.

Rick didn't even flinch when it bounced off his arm. "So you do like it after all, huh? Do you want your portal gun back, too? It's still in that box we brought in with us." He made a soft, dry laugh. "If only I'd gotten mine back so easily..." After picking up the baby harness, he held it out in front of him to show it off. "You wanna help me find Birdperson, Morty? I could use another set of eyes."

Morty's reply was another squeal as he clumsily ran across the floor towards his favorite person and crash tackled him around the legs; he had no comprehension of what was being asked of him, but he was happy anyway.

"I take it that's a yes?" Rick shook his head, though he was grinning. "Pretty lame way to say it, if you ask me."

* * *

The only useful instruction that Squanchy had given Rick was 'village', so off he went. As he made his way through the wilderness beyond the tree house community, he realized that he only knew the general direction of the place; Birdperson had flown him there the first time around. Knowing which way to go wouldn't have helped now anyway; the landscape had been changed considerably by the storm. Despite the extent of the damage, the well-worn pathways were still present, so he used them to navigate.

By the time Rick had traversed all the way there, the sky had clouded over and a light dusting of rain covered everything around him. He was also reminded of the pain under his ribcage; it seemed the drugs he had taken earlier had worn off. All of these factors contributed to his bad mood as he stepped onto the cobblestone pathway at the edge of the clearing just beyond the village.

"Ugh... why is it so humid!? Fuck this shit!" Rick snapped at nobody in particular as he ran his fingers through his mess of spiky hair to flick the water out of it, even though he knew it would do no good.

The outburst attracted the attention of a passerby, who recognized the flightless biped immediately and raised her head to the sky to call out a loud, melodic song of warbles as she communicated her find to the rest of the flock. A reply came from the trees high overhead and the owner of the call broadcast the song even further. Off in the distance, more bird people called back, and the chorus erupted throughout the village and beyond as even more of them joined in.

"Goddamnit!" Rick exclaimed in his frustration. He vaguely recognized the song from his days fighting the Galactic Federation after Bird World had been invaded; it was part of their culture to announce the arrival or return of a well-respected member of the community. He hadn't meant to draw attention to himself, but now he was the subject of a battle-cry in a language that he couldn't even understand, let alone speak.

There was a flurry of wing flaps as the bird people abandoned what they were doing to see for themselves if the words of the song were true. Before the spiky-haired man could do anything else, more than fifteen of them had flocked towards him with more coming as each second ticked over.

"The Destroyer of Worlds returns!" One of them happily cried out.

"The flock remembers." Another bird person firmly declared, while another three echoed the same words after the first one had spoken.

"Ugh, no..." Rick backed away, repulsed by the fact they saw him as some kind of celebrity. "N-no! What the hell did I do to receive that kind of welcome? I was only gone a few days!"

Morty was overwhelmed by all the unfamiliar faces crowding in on his position and promptly burst into tears.

"Rick," Birdperson's ever-present monotone voice called out as he pushed his way through the gathering. "You are alive."

"Fuck yeah, BP!" Rick's face lit up with genuine happiness the moment he saw him. "It'd take a lot more than some asshole version of myself to take me out!" His grin faded. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," Birdperson slowly shook his head. "I was knocked out of the sky and my senses were stunned, but no real harm was done." His neutral expression did not change. "I am glad to see you were finally able to get away."

"Phh, I didn't... he let me go." Rick scowled as he took Morty out of the baby harness and gently rocked him in his arms. "Shh, stop that, buddy. I'm here, OK?"

"Rick, I do not understand." Birdperson raised an eyebrow. "Why would an alternate version of yourself capture you just to let you go?"

"Oh boy, that's a loooooong story." Rick sighed in exasperation. "If you've got time to sit down, I'll tell it to you later," he turned to glare at the rest of the crowd. "Once these goddamn eavesdroppers and hangers-on decide to piss off, o-of course. What are you even looking at? Don't you have work to do!?" He paused in thought. "What the hell is going on, BP? Last time I was here, there wasn't this many people around."

There was a collection of disapproving mutters as the crowd began to dissipate again.

Birdperson nodded in understanding. "It seems that we would both benefit from sitting down and having a talk together." He turned away to motion a hand to the surrounding area. "Much has changed in your absence, Rick. That storm you were caught in was the advent of the wet season and summer, which means the time for growing and harvesting food has arrived. We are gathering supplies for-"

Birdperson's words were drowned out by the sudden powerful roar of plasma-fuel engines as two flying transportation vehicles descended through the atmosphere and sailed high over their heads.

Rick's eyes widened in reaction to the noise and every fiber of his being tensed; it was the exact same sound he had heard shortly before his home planet had been swarmed and vitrified. "Whoa, NO, NOT AGAIN! HOLY SHIT!" He cried out in alarm as he tightly held onto Morty and instinctively bolted.

Birdperson promptly reached out to grab the spiky-haired man by the collar of his lab coat before he could get too far. "Calm down, Rick. There is nothing to be afraid of."

Rick did not hear him in his fervent struggle against him; his mind had switched into irrational panic and all he wanted to do was run.

"Rick, calm yourself." Birdperson tried again as he held him firmly in place. "It is just vehicular assistance from the planet Squanch. They arrived not long after you disappeared bearing news that the Galactic Federation has been particularly active in recent weeks. Hostile forces have been spotted across several locations throughout the galaxy, including planet Schbamba and Glapflap's third moon. It would appear they have their sights on more targets other than yourself."

The explanation seemed to get through to the scientist and he finally stopped again, but he was visibly shaking as his mind returned him to reality. "H-holy fucking shit... I-I didn't need that..."

"Rick, I understand that you have been through a lot," Birdperson's stoic expression was betrayed by the faintest hint of a frown; there was no way he would ever be able to describe that accurately. "But you need to be updated on the situation at hand. It would do you some good to sit with me in my tree house and listen to all that has transpired since your disappearance from Bird World."

Rick let out a heavy sigh. "Y-yeah, I guess so..." He placed Morty over his shoulder and soothingly rubbed his back, though it was partly for his own benefit as well.

Birdperson was silent as he watched his friend's body language; Rick typically guarded himself behind anger, fake happiness, alcohol, or a combination of any one of those things. However, all he saw now was open vulnerability and it made him feel protective. "Rick. We are going back to the tree house." He spoke with resolved firmness, having decided that he needed to know sooner rather than later.

"Huh?" Rick quickly shook his head to object. "B-but I just got here!"

"Rick, secure your hatchling." Birdperson unfurled his wings. "We are leaving."

Rick rolled his eyes in annoyance but saw no reason to continue; he'd already achieved what he'd came for. "Y'know, I have my portal gun working again and the last coordinate in the memory was to your front door, s-so... I could just, uh..." He took it out of his lab coat and fired at the wall of the nearest building. "After you?"

Birdperson stared at the portal as it adhered to the structure; although he had seen them many times before and knew what they were, he was still hesitant before stepping through.

"See that, Morty? Even Birdperson knows portals are fun, you cowardly piece of shit." Rick finally managed a small grin as he headed in after him.

* * *

After arriving back on the landing of his tree house, Birdperson looked around him if just to reorient himself; he'd always found portal travel to be rather disconcerting. "I don't know if you know this or not," he spoke aloud as he got his mind back on track, "but Squanchy is going to take up residence inside my house until the Squanches refuel and supply their ships for the journey ahead."

"Yeah, we had some words before I left to find you." Rick frowned as he moved ahead to push the door open. "So a bunch of shit has happened after I left. Hit me up with your story first, BP." He set Morty down on the floor beside him. "I'll tell you all about mine after you're done."

Birdperson nodded in agreement. "These crates you see around my living room contain weapon shipments. In exchange for fuel and supplies, the people of planet Squanch have temporarily armed us until we can manufacture more of the weapons you designed all those years ago when you helped us to defend Bird World." He paused to gather his thoughts. "My people have been hard at work with that while others are farming food stocks for the journey ahead."

"Oh, god!" Rick almost wanted to laugh with embarrassment. "Is THAT why you tore my blueprints down?! You know how fucking old those were, right? A-at least let me design you new ones!"

"Heeeey, squanches!" Squanchy cheered as he walked out into the living room. "I heard you guys come in." He turned to face Birdperson. "Isn't it great? Sanchez is back and we didn't even have to do anything! We got the whole trio back together now, let's get out there and squanch it!"

"What is he talking about, Birdperson?" Rick sat down on the edge of the couch, though his attention was on Morty to make sure he didn't get into anything.

"Rick," Birdperson moved across the room to sit down beside him. "As I said before, the Galactic Federation is on the move again. The Squanches have arrived to protect Bird World, but they are leaving as soon as their ships have been adequately stocked with food and fuel. They are looking to take the fight straight to the Federation and push them off planet Schbamba before it meets the same fate as your world." The feathery male bowed his head in respect for the fallen. "They are also looking to recruit more of my kind to take with them."

"Heh, always need more corpses for the cause, right...?" Rick dryly mused.

"Yes, Rick." Birdperson answered truthfully, ignoring his dark humor. "My ideals on freedom have not changed and I doubt that yours have either. The Federation's grip on the galaxy is only going to become stronger as time moves on and I am considering rejoining the fight against them."

"Seriously...?" Rick didn't know whether to encourage him or talk him out of it; he couldn't bear the thought of losing another person that he practically considered family.

"It will never be enough until their regime is defeated." Birdperson spoke again. "There is nothing here for me on Bird World - I do not have a mate or hatchlings of my own, and even the family I came from is so far dispersed across the world that we never see each other." He stared at Rick deliberately before speaking again. "You should consider coming with us. You could not have timed your return any more perfectly."

Rick's eyes widened at the suggestion and felt his heart torn two ways; he wanted more than anything to rejoin the resistance for the opportunity to exact his revenge on the Galactic Federation. However, he also had to do right by Morty and just couldn't subject him to growing up amid the heat of intergalactic war. "I... I-I can't..."

"Why not?" Birdperson's feathery brows raised in surprise.

"Morty needs me..." Rick lowered his head. "I'm all he's got left. I-I can't do that to him, BP. I can't just leave him and..." He trailed off and went quiet again. "No."

"Squanchin' hell, Sanchez." Squanchy piped up. "You leave one day without any kind of explanation, and then you come back all these years later with not just a kid, but a grandkid? You've really changed."

"Maybe I have!" Rick spat back with sudden charge in his voice. "What's it to you, anyway!?"

"Rick," Birdperson's voice became serious as he tried to put the conversation back on track. "Nobody would think ill of you if you left Morty in the care of one of the mothers here on Bird World. There is not a single person alive on this planet who would not volunteer to protect him while you fight in the name of freedom. Anyone would be willing to repay the debt after all you have done for us. I know my neighbor would be one of the first to volunteer after what you have done for her hatchling."

"NO." Rick said with resolved firmness. "I-I've already ruined one family by running after a war that wasn't mine to fight, a-and look what happened to them..."

"Rick..." Birdperson's tone remained flat, yet the feathered comb on his forehead flared up; there was absolutely nothing he could say.

Squanchy made his disgust known with a loud hiss. "It's a total squanchin' bummer, that's what it is! If only we'd known sooner, you know? The Squanches would have defended Earth in a heartbeat for ya, but they didn't even think it was a hotspot. The damn Feds really had it out for you, Sanchez." His ears drooped in sadness. "I'm so sorry, man. They're fightin' dirty now, it's squanchin' bullshit!"

"I-it's fine..." Rick quickly lied. "They've sure as HELL made it personal now, b-but..." He clenched his hands into fists and furrowed his brows in firm determination. "I can't go with you. I-I'm not tearing this family apart before it's even had a chance to begin."

"Rick," Birdperson tried again, "Morty will be fine if you leave him here. The people of Bird World will take care of him. Maybe he will even surprise you with his resilience as he grows." He did his best to sound more convincing. "He may even learn from it and join the resistance as well when he is old enough. I also grew up in a state of war and I am fine for it."

Rick twisted the edges of his mouth into a hard frown; he thought Birdperson's statement was debatable. "This isn't his war to fight..." He shook his head again. "No, Birdperson. He's better off growing up away from all of that shit. Besides, he needs to grow up around his own kind, as in, uh... humans."

"What about you, Sanchez?" Squanchy idly flicked his tail. "If you didn't have the grandkid around, what would you do?"

"Shit, Squanchy..." Rick growled in frustration. "Don't make me consider hypotheticals, t-there's... there's no point." He buried his face in his hands, the deeply conflicted feeling flooding his mind all over again. "I can't make the same mistake again. I already ruined one family, I'm not destroying another. M-my answer is no, and that's final."

"Rick," Birdperson tried one last time. "Would you at least be interested in offering auxiliary support? Your ability to design weapons and incendiary devices could give the resistance a genuine fighting edge and a chance to beat the Federation at their own game."

"NO, Birdperson!" Rick finally snapped and got to his feet. "Goddammit, NO! Y-you think I don't want to!? What the fuck is wrong with you two!? You know I'd like to rip their fucking heads off as much as you guys, m-more than anything!" He clutched at his hair spikes in his anger. "Fuck it, I want to. But I CAN'T! I'm already putting Bird World at a huge risk just by being here!" He finally stormed off out the front door.

Birdperson settled back on the couch and let him go, though the last statement worried him; Rick obviously knew something he didn't and he knew he would have to press him for details when he was in a more-agreeable mood.

"Squanchin' hell," Squanchy laughed awkwardly. "That... didn't go well, did it? I woulda thought Sanchez would leap at the chance to get back out there and squanch their buggy asses. What do you think changed over all these years?"

Birdperson averted his gaze towards Morty. "Everything."

* * *

Rick sat on the landing of Birdperson's tree house and brooded over the conversation while he watched the ships rocket past his location high overhead. He was dusted in another light coating of rain but didn't care this time; he was too busy processing what was going on and what to do next. Although the arrival of the ships from planet Squanch were rather sudden, he wasn't surprised; when the Galactic Federation did something as drastic as vitrifying an entire planet, the rest of the galaxy sat up and paid attention.

When Birdperson came out with Morty, Rick was only too happy to take him just to have some company. The scientist secretly appreciated his grandson's tender age now; he was too little to argue or offer his own input.

"You're a good kid, Morty..." Rick sighed as he pulled him into his lap. "So much goddamn shit is going on, and everyone wants a piece of your grandpa."

Morty wordlessly flopped down onto his back and looked up at his grandfather's sad eyes with intense curiosity.

"Between trying to stay alive, being wanted by those idiot mes, that council of fake mes, and now this shit? It's all too much..." Rick looked down at him and began to voice his frustrations even though he knew Morty was too young to care. "It really doesn't stop, does it? I wish you were big enough to tell me what you wanted. You're about the only one I'd listen to at this point, i-it's all about you after all."

Morty's only reply was a soft burp and silence; he had no capacity to comprehend what his grandfather was asking him and was just content to lie there in his company.

"I guess we'll figure it out eventually, huh?" Rick muttered. "Just wish we could catch a break..."

The scientist continued to watch the world around him. He soon found himself wondering if it had been worth it at all; he'd lost his own world as a result of saving this one. Perhaps in some strange way, that was the universe's answer to restoring balance, but just as quickly he decided it was all crazily chaotic and random. He moved throughout the day to take care of Morty's needs as well as his own, but always returned to the same spot to think. Surgeon Rick had been right; he could go anywhere and do anything, but that still didn't help. Even after everything, he still didn't have a clue what to do or how to fit Morty into any of his future plans, not that he really had any just yet.

It was sunset by the time Birdperson chose to come out and try speaking to him again; the strange little human had been out there all afternoon and he figured that he might finally be in a more-agreeable mood.

"What are you still doing out here, Rick?" The feathery male moved to stand behind him. "You are aware that you can come inside anytime and make yourself more comfortable."

"I'm watching the everyday meanderings of a world that doesn't have to contend with enslavement or genocide." Rick answered abruptly. "What's your excuse?"

"I am concerned for your well-being, Rick." Birdperson admitted. "I do not know what to say or what to do, but you are in great pain and I cannot stand idly by and let you suffer." He carefully sat down beside him. "Please tell me what to do."

"Can't," Rick grunted, "I don't even know what to do myself..."

The two sat in the silence of one another's company as the sun continued to go down. By the time it was a small sliver on the edge of the horizon, the stars had come out and Morty was fast asleep in his grandfather's lap.

"Humor me, BP," Rick spoke quietly. "I don't even care if your answer is biased or an attempt to make me feel better." He grunted in distaste at the thought. "Which one would have been more worth it? Saving everyone on Bird World at the cost of my family, or staying the fuck away from the Gromflomites in the first place? Because if I had done the latter, then Beth and Summer would still be alive."

"Rick, I am not sure if I understand why you are asking me this." Birdperson furled his wings around his shoulders. "Do you regret the choices you have made? There is no correct answer because there is death regardless of the outcome."

"No, it's OK, BP." Rick quickly dismissed the statement. "What would you have done personally? Kept your family alive, o-or save everyone here? What's more worth it? A whole lot of lives that you didn't really give a shit about, or a just few valuable ones?"

"Rick, it sounds like you are trying to make sense of a senseless act of destruction and death." Birdperson's wing feathers ruffled in agitation. "The value of a life is not quantifiable, and to lose one is a great tragedy regardless of circumstance. I strongly suggest that you stop entertaining these thoughts because whether it was my world or yours, it would not have mattered."

Rick narrowed his eyes; he hadn't expected that kind of answer at all. "What do you mean...?"

"Rick," Birdperson moved to his feet again. "If there was nobody to stand up to the Galactic Federation, they would have eventually conquered every inhabitable planet within the galaxy. First it would have been my world. Then Squanchy's. Then Erikeek and Glapflap, and so on. They would have eventually found Earth and subjugated it or destroyed it, just the same as they have done to every other planet."

"Tch..." Rick turned his head away; Birdperson was right.

"The Galactic Federation will not stop until they control everything," Birdperson continued. "Somebody needs to resist them. Bird World exists because you elected to do just that. If you are blaming yourself for the loss of your family and your home planet, then you need to stop. It is not your fault. It is theirs. You did not pull the trigger, they did."

Rick let out a morbid laugh in spite of how he was feeling. "I really hate you sometimes, BP..."

"It has always been their fault." Birdperson stepped back from him. "All you did was step in and correct an injustice. We cannot turn back and return the favor to you, but now it is our turn to pay it forward."

Rick snorted in disgust. "And there you are, back on the damn resistance thing..."

"I am sorry that you feel like you cannot join us, Rick." Birdperson slowly shook his head, though his expression never changed. "However, there is still time. The ships from planet Squanch will not be here for at least another week or two. If you change your mind, they will be glad to hear it."

"No..." Rick carefully picked Morty up in his arms and finally got to his feet. He immediately grunted in discomfort; he had been sitting down so long that his legs were stiff and sore. "I gotta think about Morty's future now. I can't see how I can fit both him and the whole revenge thing into it... I-I still haven't even worked out what to do about myself."

"I get it, Rick." Birdperson nodded in understanding. "However, right now I think it would be best to look behind you."

"What...?" Rick raised an eyebrow. "How's that going to help me?"

"Rick," Birdperson tried again. "Look behind you."

"Phh, that's such terrible advice!" Rick growled back at him. "I-I'm done with that shit, Birdperson. There's nothing back there for me anymore! You know dwelling on the past is just going to make me feel even shittier, right? Nothing I do is ever going to bring it back!"

"Rick, really..." Birdperson raised a hand and pointed his finger. "Just look behind you."

"But there's nothing back there for me anymore!" Rick protested. "The past is done with, BP. There's no point dwell-HURRRK!" His sentence was cut off abruptly as he felt the air being crushed out of his lungs in an aggressive, warm, enveloping hug. Somehow, he still managed to hold onto Morty.

"You are alive!" The feminine voice behind him was loud in joyful exclamation.

"O-ow, fuck!" Rick screwed his face up in pain. "Shit, shit, shit... let me go!"

The new arrival ignored him and lifted him up off the landing like a trophy to cry out a loud screech of celebration. "He lives! The Destroyer of Worlds lives!"

Birdperson made note of Rick's expression and stepped in to take control of the situation. "Gresharak, it would be wise if you put him down immediately."

"Huh?" The feathery female blinked in confusion, then did as she was told. "Oh yes, I forgot that he is not the hugging type."

Rick promptly stumbled away from her and doubled-over in pain. "Aaah shit... wh-what the fuck is wrong with you?!" He made a loud groan as he placed Morty down on the landing and hunched over, hugging himself tightly around the middle; the sudden, harsh squeeze had made the pain under his ribs unbearably worse.

Gresharak's delight turned into concern as she stepped towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Oh my, what have you done to yourself now?"

Rick did not answer and gritted his teeth hard as the blackness began to shroud his vision. He just stood there as his breath came out in short, pained rasps and fought through it, somehow managing to keep himself from passing out entirely.

"We need to get him inside," Birdperson spoke at once. "It seems that there is still more that needs to be said." He nodded down towards Morty. "You will take the hatchling. I will deal with Rick."

* * *

Five minutes later, Rick was back inside Birdperson's tree house and reclining on the couch. Despite the fact that three others were now closely watching him, he did his best to conceal how he really felt and played it off as if everything were fine. He wasn't entirely willing to sit up properly just yet, but the pain had already started subsiding again.

"Tell me what happened, Rick." Birdperson moved to stand before him. "Did your abductors treat you improperly?"

Rick made a forced laugh at the suggestion. "Abductors? Yeah, you can totally call them that, but..." He grinned. "They're assholes, but they're fine. Well, one of them was... is... w-whatever."

"If they did not do this to you, then how did you hurt yourself?" Birdperson folded his arms. "Will they come back? How can we help you, Rick?"

"Ugh..." Rick slowly propped himself up a little. "You don't need to do anything, BP. I-I'm fine."

"Squanchin' hell, don't give us that bullshit!" Squanchy suddenly hissed at him. "Anyone could see something happened to you the moment you came in." He sprang off his chair and began to pace across the floor. "Look at your paw, for starters. A-and that funky smell comin' off you? Don't squanchin' lie to us, Sanchez!"

"What funky smell?" Rick sniffed his arm and raised an eyebrow; he couldn't smell anything.

Birdperson leaned over to give him a casual sniff, then moved away again. "Have you been in a bad environment? You smell sweet and unpleasantly sour, like rotting fruit."

"What the fuck? I-I don't smell that!" Rick growled, though it wasn't a lie. "I have been in a place that smells like death and decay." He admitted after another moment.

Squanchy hopped up on the couch to give the scientist a longer, more-focused sniff, his furry snout pressed right up against his shoulder. "Nah man, this ain't just on your threads, it goes deeper than that. You squanch bad, man. Like, all of you. Are you OK, Sanchez?"

"Personal space, Squanchy!" Rick pushed him back. "O-of course I'm OK!"

Gresharak was standing over him now and paused to take a long, cautious sniff. "He does smell like rotting fruit, come to think of it..."

"I don't need your opinion, too!" Rick snapped at her. "All of you, back the fuck up!" He angrily folded his arms across his chest. "So I smell bad, so what?! I'll take a shower and that's gonna be the end of it. L-leave me alone!"

"A shower wouldn't fix that..." Squanchy's whiskers twitched in concern. "Do you need a doctor, Sanchez? We got medics on board the ships if you want someone to squanch you over. Maybe they can re-bandage your paw or somethin'."

"NO!" Rick snapped back at him. "I'm fine already, fucking hell! Stop pushing it, OK!?"

"I can prepare medicine that will cleanse your body of toxins," Birdperson said thoughtfully. "Though I do not know much about the ailments of humans. Now that their species is all but extinct, I very much doubt we can access the kind of knowledge we need."

"I have some herbs that will assist absorption." Gresharak quickly backed up towards the door. "Let me obtain them for you."

Rick made a loud growl as he forced himself to his feet; he was totally fed up with being the center of the discussion and all he wanted to do was retreat. He immediately regretted getting up too quickly, as he felt his head swim with dizziness. "Maybe all I need to do is lie down... i-it'll be better in the morning."

Birdperson nodded in agreement. "Resting would do you some good. I will prepare the medicine, but it will take time. I apologize in advance if I have to wake you up."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Rick moved over to pick Morty up so he could take him with him. "Whatever..." A deep scowl formed over his face as he retreated for the spare nest room.

"Feel better, OK?" Squanchy quietly spoke as he watched him walk away. "The galaxy kinda needs you to squanch out there..."

As Birdperson watched his best friend depart, he realized he still hadn't gotten the chance to hear anything about where he'd been. With a small shrug of his shoulders, he moved into the kitchen; there would still be time to talk, or so he thought.

* * *

After flopping down onto the roll-away cot, Rick tried to process what was happening to him. He didn't feel particularly well but didn't feel sick either; apart from the throbbing pain under his ribs and the sudden bout of dizziness after getting up, he thought he was fine. The fact that Squanchy, Birdperson, and Gresharak could all smell sour decay on him worried him the most, though he couldn't rule it out, as he knew that their senses were far more acute and evolved than his own.

Rick sniffed his hand again to make sure, though he could smell nothing. If he was genuinely getting sick, it certainly wasn't following the normal pattern of plasma-radiation poisoning; he wouldn't even be functional by now if it were. He released a heavy sigh from his lungs as he moved to place his hands behind his head; no wonder the doctor was so interested in monitoring him.

"This is shit, Morty... just another fucking unknown we gotta deal with."

Morty made a soft noise of playfulness and began climbing onto his grandfather's chest, only to whimper when he was picked up and returned to his side.

"Can't do that right now, buddy." Rick gently explained. "I-it hurts too much."

Morty made a soft growl to express his dislike at being moved. "N-n... n-no."

"Yeah," Rick softly chuckled, "I don't like it either."

As the scientist closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable, he soon discovered that he couldn't; the latent heat and humidity from the day still hung heavily in the air and it was impossible to sleep in. He rolled onto his side and lay like that for a while, then moved onto his other side. After returning to his back, he stared up at the ceiling, still very much wide awake; there was no way he would be able to rest in these conditions unless he was absolutely exhausted.

"Goddammit..." Rick hissed. "Why does it have to be so fucking humid!? Fuck Bird World's wet season, seriously! Fuck summer and fuck this damn place, I-I can't stand it anymore!" He retrieved the portal gun from his top lab-coat pocket and punched in the sequence of coordinates he had been given to the portal hub on the ship in Dimension Q-316 before being captured.

"Come on, Morty," the older man grumbled as he got to his feet and fired the portal gun at the wall, flooding the entire room in a warm glow of luminous neon-green. "We're leaving."

Morty clumsily climbed off the bed and moved ahead of his grandfather. He stopped a couple of feet in front of the swirling vortex of light and whimpered, still entirely uncertain about it.

Rick was fast losing his patience with Morty's attitude and rolled his eyes before nudging him through with an outstretched foot. He stepped in shortly afterwards; he knew that his designated holding room back on the ship had air-conditioning and would be a more comfortable place to sleep in, even if he had to deal with the other versions of himself again.

The portal collapsed inward on itself after its owner had stepped through, plunging the room in darkness once again.

By the time Birdperson had finished preparing his batch of medicine, he opened the door of the spare nest room to empty silence. He shook his head and shut the door again, though he wasn't surprised to learn that his best friend had already taken off without saying anything; the strange little human had a habit of randomly dropping in and vanishing again for almost as long as he'd known him.

"I just hope that you know what you are doing, Rick..."

* * *

 **November 29th, 10:44am, Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316**

* * *

Surgeon Rick had literally just stepped into the hallway beyond the portal hub with a stretcher containing a fresh corpse when he heard the sound of the device firing up behind him again. "Eh, what the fuck?" He turned around to stare back at it. "Is that thing broken again or some shit?"

When a Morty tumbled onto the tiled ground, his eyes widened and he promptly abandoned his work to move over and crouch down beside him. "Well, hey there! Where'd you come from, little guy? Did the boss steal you?" He was too preoccupied with checking him over to hear the sound of the portal opening a second time.

"I-I wouldn't put it past him to do that," the voice overhead suddenly growled. "But no, not on this occasion."

Surgeon Rick got to his feet and needed a moment to work out who he was looking at; he found himself face to face with a generically clothed Rick with a ridiculous, flopped-over haircut. "Heeeey, it's you!" He happily declared after recognizing him. "What are you doin' back here so soon, brother?"

"Couldn't sleep, so I'm gonna crash here." Rick grumbled in reply. "It was too fucking humid on Bird World... why does it have to be so damn hot during the night, a-and how can anyone stand it?"

"I guess you need to acclimatize to the environment?" Surgeon Rick suggested. "Then again, there's lifeforms that die of heat-stress when the temperature gets above zero."

"Must be Canadian..." Rick muttered as he picked Morty up. "What are you doing?" He peered around the surgeon. "Another dead Rick?"

"Oh, shit!" Surgeon Rick hastily grabbed a sheet to throw over the corpse on his stretcher. "Yeah, another wasted brother that didn't make it. This guy just... quietly slipped away. Something nasty got him, so of course the big boss urgently wants to know what it was." He sadly shook his head. "I don't advise looking at him, dude. You haven't actually seen yourself dead yet, have you? It's... i-it's not something you forget in a hurry."

Rick fixed his gaze on the pair of feet sticking out from under the white sheet; one of the corpse's shoes was missing and the exposed foot had already turned a sickly grey color. While he'd seen many types of aliens dead and dying over the course of his life, Surgeon Rick was correct; he'd never actually seen another deceased version of himself before. Surprisingly, he didn't feel as perturbed about it as he thought he might have; it was nothing more than just another dead body under a sheet.

"I got too much shit to do." Surgeon Rick quickly distracted himself with a clipboard full of paperwork. "You're not gonna get far without your RFID chip, so... uh. Use my door code if you want? It's 69-69."

Rick let out a tired groan. "I should have known..."

"Yeah!" Surgeon Rick laughed. "We used to use biometric verification for the security, but you can imagine how well that turns out when everyone you're working for and with all have the same DNA. Catch ya later, loser." He began to snicker as he wheeled the stretcher off down the hallway. "Hope your room is... ballsy enough for you." He broke into a proper fit of laughter as he turned around the corner.

"The fuck is he talking about...?" Rick scowled, though he knew that he was probably just about find out. When he made it to the front door of his room, he found a small post-it note stuck to the hexagonal door:

" _You said you had enough balls.  
_ _Now you can have even more!  
_ _\- R"_

He punched in the door code without a second thought, and as soon as the doors slid open, a torrent of brightly colored plastic balls rained down on him and spilled into the hallway; Surgeon Rick had obviously filled the room with several thousand ball-pit balls during his time away, and this was his way of getting back at him.

"Oh, you fucking idiot..." Rick sighed; while he wasn't particularly enthralled to see his room half-buried in plastic balls, he did see the humor in it.

Meanwhile, Morty made a loud squeal of joy at the sight of so much bright color and leaped out of his grandfather's arms to fall face first into the pile. He slowly sank underneath the mass, though he was still easily located by all the little sounds he was making.

"Yeah, have fun with that, buddy..." Rick muttered as he flicked armfuls of balls out into the hallway to reduce the sheer quantity in the room. After dumping out more than half of them, he waded across the floor and flopped face down onto the bunk bed, finding himself quite tired; he'd been awake for well over 24 hours by now and needed to rest.

It seemed like he had even more to think about and yet more decisions to make, but Morty was happy and he was comfortable for the time being, which was all that mattered. He was also finally in the cooler, air-conditioned environment that he had so strongly desired, even if it did smell acidic.

Rick didn't want to admit it, but now he was in a safe place if his health continued to decline, and being near two medical professionals put his mind at ease, even if he didn't want to give them the satisfaction of being right.


	21. A Hive Of Rickgret

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights: ** Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is fanfiction and unlicensed/unofficial material. Please support the official release!

 **NOTE:** Oh look, shit gets real again.

* * *

 **Chapter 21 – A Hive Of Rickgret  
** **  
** **November 29th, 5:26pm, Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316**

* * *

Surgeon Rick had just clocked off his shift for the day and wanted to switch his brain off after all the things he had seen; he wanted to kill fake, pixelated aliens in video games, drink beer, and watch interdimensional TV. He figured his dimensional counterpart had probably rested long enough by now and didn't think inviting him along to join in with his mundane activities would hurt; the least he could do was say no.

As he walked into the barracks area of the ship, he couldn't help but snicker with childish glee; there were still hundreds of ball-pit balls scattered all over the corridor. He opened the door to Rick's personal quarters and expected to find him still asleep or in the process of waking up, but instead he heard the sounds of Morty giggling somewhere underneath the mass of balls, and violent retching coming from behind the closed door of the bathroom.

"Oh, hey... you OK in there?" The surgeon called out as he waded through the knee-high sea of plastic. "That sounds horrible, bro. You eat a bad burrito or something?" After locating Morty's hiding spot, he stood over him.

"Yeah," came the weak response. "S-something like that..."

While Surgeon Rick knew he wasn't the smartest Rick in the multiverse, he was by no means stupid. He already knew that his charge's upset stomach was related to the diagnosis that his boss was trying to pursue but wasn't about to bring that up; he already knew it would end in hostility.

"Hey, don't worry. It'll pass." He deliberately kept his tone cheerful as he chose to keep steering the conversation in the direction he had already taken it; he couldn't properly assess Rick until he was out of the bathroom anyway. "That actually happened to me not too long ago, except it went right through me. Real nasty stuff... had to take a day off work and everything. The boss was NOT impressed."

Rick started to make a reply, but his own body cut him off with another loud heave.

Surgeon Rick fished Morty out of the plastic balls and carried him across to the bunk bed. "When you're done in there, you should just take it easy. If you need me to hook you up with something to take the edge off, I got loads of shit in my desk. All you need to do is ask, brother." As he sat down on the edge of the bed to wait, he gently set Morty down beside him. "So what's new, short guy? How has your day been apart from this?"

Morty silently stared up at the spiky-haired impostor and reached over with a small, pointed finger to give his scrubs an experimental poke; he still wasn't quite ready to accept him just yet, but knew he wasn't unfriendly.

"Yeah, it's real." Surgeon Rick calmly nodded. "It's not some stupid costume I wear for fun."

Morty gave the blue, rubbery clothing another poke now that he knew he wasn't going to be stopped.

"So... you're a baby, huh?" Surgeon Rick said simply for the purpose of talking to him. "Yeah so was I, once... don't really remember too much of it, though."

When the bathroom door opened again, Rick needed to lean against the doorway; he felt like all the strength had been sapped out of him. He lowered his head in an attempt to minimize the dizzy sensations swirling through it, then slowly stumbled into the room.

"Yeah, you're no good, bro." Surgeon looked up and was unable to hide the concern on his face. "Do you wanna go to the medi-bay? I can load you up on the good stuff. You'd feel a whole lot better if you let me help you out."

Rick briefly considered the offer, then waved a hand out in front of him to dismiss it. "Phh... I-I'll be fine..."

"There's no shame in asking for help, dude." Surgeon Rick persisted. "No need to keep on acting like a tough guy."

"I-I'm saying no..." Rick heavily sank onto the bed at his dimensional-double's left side and tried to push him off. "Get out of my room."

"I actually came in to see if you wanted to come hang out and shit." Surgeon Rick offered hopefully. "I finished work early and I'm bored. There's a new season premiere of 'That Doesn't Fit In There' on tonight and you still haven't seen its awesomeness. You wanna come with? My place is literally only about five doors down so you can always just rest up back here if it gets to be too much for you."

"Well, I'm already awake..." Rick grumbled, though it was more at himself. "I'm not really useful to do much else in this state..."

Surgeon Rick's face lit up in a wide grin; it was as much of a 'yes' as he was ever going to get. "Well come on then, douchebag! Time's a wastin' and there's cool shit coming up on the other channels. Let's go watch some crazy stuff, yo!"

* * *

After ten minutes of lounging on Surgeon Rick's couch with a box of crackers and a bottle of water, Rick had perked up a little. Although Morty had demanded several of them, he didn't care; there were more than enough to share and they'd already served their purpose.

Surgeon Rick kept a subtle watch over his charge while he sifted through the infinite number of channels available to him and finally settled on a show on the history of some alien race that he didn't care about. "Y'know dude, you really surprised me. I didn't expect you to come back so soon, or at all... was the place you came from really that bad, or did you just miss me that much?" He flashed him a cheesy grin.

"Ugh, don't flatter yourself." Rick rolled his eyes, completely unimpressed. "Nah, shit's changed, a-and... there was someone there that I didn't wanna see again."

"Oh?" Surgeon Rick raised an eyebrow, his curiosity obvious.

"Long story, but..." Rick made a tired sigh, then lightly shrugged his shoulders. "Half a lifetime ago, I was the lead guitarist for a band. Birdperson did most of the vocals, but Squanchy did the backup vocals and drumming. It was never meant to be anything more than a cover for gathering info on the Fed's next moves, but... i-it was what it was, y'know?" He paused and shrugged again, not really knowing how to explain it. "Squanchy and I got along, but we didn't at the same time. Different ideas on shit, I guess..."

"Oh boy, I KNOW how that is." Surgeon Rick offered him a dry, sarcastic laugh.

Rick clasped his hands together and stared down at them. "About twenty years ago, I-I just... took off without any explanation. Beth got pregnant with her first kid and needed my help. Squanchy wouldn't have gotten it, but... Birdperson did. He was the only one I ever bothered to tell." He slowly shook his head and let out a low, frustrated growl. "Anyway, Squanchy's back, and he's hanging out in Birdperson's house. He still doesn't get it and as far as I know, he probably still thinks I abandoned everyone. I don't wanna get into it with him, so as long as he's around I'd rather not be there, as shitty as that sounds."

"It's not shitty, dude." Surgeon Rick replied as he turned his attention back towards the TV and resumed flicking channels. "If you don't get along with someone, why waste your time being around them?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you the same question?" It was Rick's turn to laugh.

"Haha, very funny." Surgeon Rick grunted back at him. "You know what? Fuck you. We all got our own reasons why we do shit, and I'm not gonna let some... pompous, generic-ass version of myself question that." Despite his caustic tone, he was still grinning. "Why the hell would you choose a band as an undercover disguise anyway? Seems pretty high profile to me."

"Nobody questions the movements of a band, not even the government." Rick calmly told him. "You're always moving from one planet to another because you're on tour." He smirked dryly. "It's the perfect cover, and your 'fans' can come backstage and slip you intel any time."

"But you were actually good, right?" Surgeon Rick pondered.

As Rick leaned back on the couch cushions, he didn't know whether to laugh or be angry. "Debatable..."

"You know, your modesty really annoys the shit outta me." Surgeon Rick gave him a sideways glance, then returned his attention to the TV. "So you really went back for your kid, huh?"

Rick made a soft, uncomfortable grunt; he wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about this anymore. "Y-yeah."

"Why?"

Rick said nothing initially, then reluctantly conceded. "She was seventeen and didn't have anyone else. Must have been pretty desperate for her to reach out for someone she barely even remembered... " The guilty feeling had returned and he tried to suppress it. "The ex couldn't take care of her anymore because she got terminally ill with cancer or some bullshit, I-I... I don't really care." It was such a blatant lie that even he knew how obvious it was as he spoke it. "That kid was easily likable and we got along right away. I set her up with a down payment on a house while her idiot boyfriend looked for a job. I did odd-jobs to keep them afloat while she went back to college, so i-it worked out." He sighed and slowly shook his head. "So fucking stupid. I-I never should have gone back there..."

Surgeon Rick was silent through the story. Some of the parallels were uncanny, while some just reminded him of how completely different they were. He couldn't think of anything useful to say or do and instead decided to change the subject entirely. "Oh, shit yeah!" He nodded at the TV. "You ever see a game of deathball? Alien motherfuckers are gonna die!"

Rick glanced up at the screen and was actually glad for the distraction. He wasn't even entirely certain why he'd bothered to open up like that, though perhaps it was because the other had done the exact same thing only a few days ago on the same couch. "Deathball? Couldn't they come up with a more creative name?" He fumbled a hand through the box of crackers and popped three more of them into his mouth.

"Ah, that's just what it translates to, bro." Surgeon Rick got up to retrieve a beer from his bar fridge. "In its native tongue, it means... uh..." He paused in thought. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Then again, these guys were never known for thinking too mu-" He suddenly thrust a fist into the air as he watched one of the smaller aliens getting struck down by the opposing team. "AW, YEEAAAAH! Not even ten seconds in and that guy got it in the fucking FACE! Owned, bitch!" He popped the cap off the beer and enthusiastically sat back down on the couch with it.

Rick shook his head at him and chose to watch in silence. Halfway through the game, he got up and retreated to Surgeon Rick's bunk bed after clearing the pile of trash off the top layer of sheeting; while he was certainly feeling a lot better by now, he felt exhausted even though he had already spent several hours asleep. Not even his dimensional counterpart's enthusiastic whooping and cheering could keep him up, and he nodded off in little to no time at all.

Surgeon Rick carefully watched the other Rick's movements in his peripheral vision but chose to let him go; letting him sleep was only going to help and there was no harm in letting him crash out on his bed, and he'd always preferred sleeping on his couch anyway.

When the televised murder sport had finished, he flicked back to channel 672 in eager anticipation. "Yo, dude, wake up and get your ass back over here. 'That Doesn't Fit In There' is on next!"

Rick didn't hear him; he remained comfortably curled up and very much asleep.

Surgeon Rick sat up properly to peer back at him, though he didn't have the heart to disturb him. "Hey, your loss, bro... you snooze, you lose." He turned his attention across the couch and towards Morty, who had since tipped the box of crackers onto its side and was now gorging himself on them. "You wanna watch this one with me, little guy?"

Morty stopped and stared back at the stranger, then went right back to what he was doing.

"Suit yourselves." With a soft sigh, Surgeon Rick took out his datapad and hastily typed out a message after connecting the interdimensional-communication line to his boss. _-'Yo, I think we got a problem. B-526 came back and is exhibiting the same symptoms he had in the first place. What do you want me to do?'-_

A reply came back only a few seconds later. _-'He came back early? That's impossible.'-_

 _-'Well believe it, because the goddamn jerk had the audacity to steal my fucking bed. And before you send me that 'pics or it didn't happen' bullshit, I'm way ahead of you.'-_ Surgeon Rick held the device up to take a photo, then attached it to the message.

The next reply was considerably slower than the one before it. _-'That action is completely illogical. I sincerely hope you're not pranking me with a posed corpse because I would not put it past you to do that!'-_

Surgeon Rick loudly chuckled; his boss knew him far too well because it was totally something he would have done under the right circumstances. He grinned to himself at the thought of his recipient's frustration as he mashed out the next message. _-'Just come over here and see this shit for yourself, bro. It's whack. He actually wanted to come back, some shit about air conditioning? You think it's a cover for something else?'-  
_

 _-'Possibly, but I can't tend to it right now as I'm not on the ship. I'm gathering intel on our next live retrieval and will have to update you on my return. This job is going to be particularly dangerous. You will need to pay close attention when I give you the instructions.'-_

"Huh..." Surgeon Rick had to raise an eyebrow upon reading that; he was already curious enough to want more information. He didn't even seem to notice his show had started as he typed out the next reply. _-'Must be valuable if you're already over there. How much is Sancheziminius paying you?'-_

 _-'Look, C-711. Communications are dangerous at this time and I need to keep this short. Handle the situation without me as you are more than capable. You already know what to do.'-  
_

Surgeon Rick needed a moment to stare at the screen. _-'Holy shit, boss. Was that actually a compliment?'-_

The final reply came in haste. _-'Record unusual symptoms. You know the rest. I should not have to tell you anything. Now stop endangering my position.'-_

After the communication link had ended, Surgeon Rick tossed his datapad onto the coffee table in his grumpiness. "Yeah, boss... you keep doing you." He leaned back against the couch to watch his favorite TV show, but it couldn't cheer him back up; his mind was already entertaining hypothetical scenarios on the next live-retrieval case and all the ways he could possibly fail at it. He also found himself worrying about the direction his charge's illness would take next, and he became anxious about wanting to do the next blood test.

So much for trying to switch his brain off. He took another swig of his beer to see if he could just do it that way instead.

* * *

By the time Rick had woken up again, everything around him was dark and the TV had been switched off; the only lights to guide him were the small, glowing, LED-standby bulbs on the various devices around the room. He slowly sat up and navigated his way to the couch, only to find his grandson snuggled up against his dimensional double, who was also fast asleep and snoring his head off.

"You damn traitor, Morty..." Rick leaned over the back of the couch to pick the little boy up, being careful not to rouse him from his slumber. "I'm actually beginning to think you like these guys. It's OK by me if you wanna befriend them, just as long as I remain your favorite Rick. You think you could manage that?"

Morty didn't hear him.

Rick slowly shook his head and slipped out of the room before he could cause any further disturbance. He made his way back to the terminal hub with every intention of adding to his intel reports, but it didn't take him very long to get sidetracked with the thought of getting into more of the doctor's journals; the room was completely unguarded and he had free-reign to do whatever he wanted.

Once his grandson was settled in the crib beside his chair, the scientist resumed reading through the mass of entries relating to bees. He soon discovered that he had indeed been correct in guessing that the doctor had come to the ship to clone his Morty; he found disturbing accounts of his multiple failures in trying to do so.

As Rick continued to read through the entries, it became more and more apparent that Ricktus had been plagued by guilt, alcoholism, and perhaps insanity. Though, the most overreaching emotion that echoed through his written accounts were his frustrations; the bees became bigger and more rugged with each genetic tweak, while every attempt to clone a new Morty had ended in failure: the congenital defect made certain of that. It didn't even seem to matter what the doctor did either, and in the three months that followed after his Morty's death, he had already lost five more clones to the exact same thing.

A part of Rick's mind reminded him that he should probably be concerned about human cloning and genetic experimentation, but in reality he wasn't in the slightest; it genuinely interested him enough to keep reading. Just as he started getting off track with thoughts of all the crazy things he could combine in a cloning tank if he had access to one for himself, he finally stumbled on some of the answers he had been looking for since the beginning:

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

 _ **Log Date:** 2000-10-12  
 **Author:** Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)  
 **Subject:** Who cares?  
 **Risk Level:** N/A  
 **Classification:** Classified_

 _I'm hopelessly drunk and quite amazed that I'm still capable of typing this bullshit. I've lost another three clones to the same goddamn thing I always have, and this week's death toll was a nastier blow to my self-confidence than I am willing to admit. It doesn't even matter if I accelerate the growth of the clones or not because they always fucking die at exactly the same development point - the equivalent of a 32 - 36 week fetus, right before full-term. It has become apparent that they will NEVER survive on their own and I have to start working twice as hard because there has to be a way around this one; all these failures are worthless and keep putting me further behind. Maybe I'm just not meant to have this?_

 _I'm sorry, Beth. Your father, who loves you more than anything, is a complete failure and you still don't know. You didn't deserve any of this. I WILL return to you after I have solved this dilemma, and then everything will be as it was before._

 _The way it was? I'm not sure I can remember that. It's getting hard for me to even form clear cognitive thought anymore. You think your universe sucks? Want to know the definition of ironic? How about being an MD with a double specialty in Immunology and Pediatrics, and then not even being able to do the one fucking job you trained your whole life for?_

 _The second irony is that my employers have promoted me to head physician in spite of my incompetence. What a joke! It doesn't even matter now. All that counts is getting my successes._

 _Speaking of which, I finally have one I can brag about - half a dozen, fourth-generation hybrids have graduated from their cloning tanks here at the facility today, and they follow my every movement as if I am their parent. Perhaps I am? I am not entirely unhappy with the result. I wasn't expecting to see such loyalty in this generation, but it is a welcome behavioral trait to see after the attitudes of their predecessors._

 _My little space-bee friend still makes up the majority of their DNA, but the final blend that made them viable was ordinary European praying mantis (Mantis religiosa) and monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus), both of which were retrieved from Beth's garden on Earth when I paid her property a quick visit. There is one final element I shall elaborate on further down._

 _I think I can finally call them a success, at least in terms of their ability to produce a renewable energy source. They feed on anything dead and decaying, which they then convert via metabolic processes into an odorless substance that is highly volatile and combustible. This liquid burns with a 99.999% efficiency and I cannot currently think of anything more superior. I refuse to call this substance 'honey' because that implies it is edible. Note to self: Do not do that. DO NOT DO THAT, EVER._

 _When they die they eat each other, thus completing the renewable cycle. If a hive was installed in the correct application, they could power a ship forever. Think of the possibilities!_

 _Aside from being a fuel source, the liquid substance has a rather remarkable property that I discovered quite by accident. One of my little companions noticed I was injured (a minor cut from an unrelated incident) and promptly proceeded to clean it. By the end of the day, the injury had completely sealed itself without a trace. I must repeat this at a later date and properly record the results._

 _The first generation of hybrid insects was unfaithful and mindless; four immature organisms were still more than capable of producing enough fuel to burn for an entire week (imagine what a hive collective could do in a year?), but they were not the slightest bit interested in following instructions. After it was clear that they were going to grow up to become hostile and turn against me, I had to put them all down. Such a waste of my time._

 _The second generation was modified with further praying mantis DNA, which caused them to become more aggressive and territorial, but all the females wanted to do was eat the heads of the males. I guess I should have expected that one!_

 _By the third generation, they were still stupid as fuck and completely incapable of comprehending basic directions. It was becoming clear that... something further needed to be added, but because there is rarely any intelligence to be found in the insect world, I had to consider more complex organisms. There isn't much of an intelligence pool on the ship to draw from, so I didn't even have to look. Besides, who is more intelligent than me?_

 _The fourth generation is perfect and I am finally satisfied, but I'm still not sure what to call them. A new species needs a name, doesn't it?_

 _I suppose it comes as no surprise that my latest batch wants to spend their every waking moment with me, because the members of a hive will reject anything that is not related to them. They do not listen to anyone else other than me. I may have just made myself completely indispensable._

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

As Rick reasoned through the implications of the last lines, a loud hiss escaped his throat. "Oh my god... t-this guy is fucking insane..." He didn't know whether to be irritated or impressed; the journals were now posing as many questions as they answered.

After a quick glance around him to make sure that he was still alone, he got stuck into reading the next batch of entries.

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

 _ **Log Date:** 2000-10-14  
 **Author:** Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)  
 **Subject:** -_  
 _ **Risk Level:** N/A  
 **Classification:** Restricted_

 _In a last ditch effort to create a viable clone, I'm going to map out Mortimer's entire genome as well as mine and then simply edit the flaws as one would change the text of a document. I don't care how long this takes. I already thought about cloning myself and reverse engineering the DNA, but if too many modifications are made then it's no longer Mortimer anymore, is it? I have been consoling myself with a bottle of wine while I keep thinking about how to do this, but I can do anything because I'm a fucking genius._

 _Right...?_

 _I simply do not understand how I can do whatever the hell I want to the bees while my Mortimer clones keep dying. I stopped counting the failures after 20 because I am so overcome with shame that it makes me feel vile just thinking about it. It defies all logic, and I have already had several crazy ideas involving just combining both organisms, but what use is that? The bees are perfect and Mortimer will never be. This is a giant insult to my intelligence.  
_

 _If my final efforts do not work, then perhaps it is time to give up on this place and explore other avenues._

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

It was at that moment that a rather-disturbing thought penetrated Rick's conscious mind, and he wondered if Ricktus had already tried to clone his Morty since his arrival on the ship; he probably would have resorted to similar actions had he been placed in such a situation. The scientist suddenly found himself wanting to know where the cloning facility was and if it were still operational, but he already knew there was little point in asking about it; he already guessed that he was going to be lied to or denied access. It was just another thing he would have to investigate on his own later.

As he attempted to scroll down and read more journal entries regarding the bee-hybrids, he soon discovered that he couldn't; just like that, they had stopped. What he found next in line after them were video files, and it seemed that the doctor had taken to videographing his progress instead.

It wasn't until he opened them that he understood the reason for the switch.

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

"Is this thing on?"

A loud-buzzing sound could be heard right next to the microphone of the recording device. Electrical interference caused the visual portion of the clip to crackle with static for a brief moment, but it stabilized again.

"Fleur, get off that!"

As Ricktus focused the recording device onto his face and took two steps backwards, Rick could see right away that he was devoid of his grievous scar and glasses. He was also grinning from ear to ear like an idiot, and was charged with more happiness than he had seen in the time he had known him. There were also three, young bee-hybrids perched on his shoulders; one was sleeping on his right, while the other two were trying to compete for the space on his left.

"Oh shit, uh, before I forget... log date." Ricktus quickly checked his wristwatch. "October 18th, year whatever. So I'm logging further progress by video dictation so I can look back on this crap, and... well, you have to see this. These things are growing every day and if they're anything like their predecessors, they're going to grow even bigger. But that's not even the thing I set this up for though, j-just look at this shit!" He snatched one of the bees off his left shoulder and held it up to the camera lens. "This... t-this... I've created an apex predator, and all I was doing was playing around until something worked. I can do anything I want to her, she doesn't care! Look!" He turned the young insect upside-down and gently shook her.

The young bee responded by regurgitating a long, clear string of syrupy fluid.

"OK, that's... that's gross." As Ricktus dropped the bee off-camera, a wild-eyed perplexity came over his face and he went silent. In another instant, he snapped back to reality and grabbed up a half-empty bottle of wine to chug from. "Now that I've... I'v-UURRRP endowed them with sentience and cognitive reasoning, they, t-they're behaving just like children. They're getting into all my shit... I guess they have to learn?"

The camera was suddenly knocked off the table, and the sound of the device hitting the floor was accompanied by a loud shattering of glass along with the doctor's scolding voice. "Fleur, I told you not to touch that! It's not food!"

After readjusting the camera back to its original position, the video signal was disrupted a second time by loud interference and a distant rumble. The doctor didn't seem to notice however, and simply went on with his drunken rambling.

"I still don't know how I managed to do this... I mean, why did this experiment work but not the reason I came here for? T-this... this is fucked up." He stared off into nothingness as his mind overtook his body, and then threw his head back in a gigantic fit of crazy laughter. "Oh my god! It's so fucked u-"

The video suddenly cut out and went dead.

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

"Hey, it's me again." As Ricktus adjusted the camera back on himself, it was clear that he was incredibly nervous and that something concerning was happening; the ceiling lights flickered erratically and the whole area shook with intermittent vibrations. "Log date is early morning, October 20th. Something big has been going down for the last several hours, let me tell you... I-I think the morons finally got themselves cornered? They're not telling me anything and I'm locked up here, but... stay calm? Yeah, like that's going to happen. The blast shields have cut off access to my room, but my portal gun is in there and I'm bailing on this thing at the earliest opportunity, it... it's... we're so screwed."

"So," he turned the camera towards the corner of the medi-bay box room he was currently in, and aimed it at the half-dozen young bees cowering in a cluster in the far corner. "Forget about all of that... this is the perfect time to demonstrate my new species' sentience in action. I'm not sure if they're reacting to me or if they sense the danger for themselves, but... they clearly know something's up. They're displaying rather-obvious anxiety and fear."

"It's cool to watch, but," he glanced upwards as another violent tremor rocked through the entire section of the ship, and then the overhead lights, plunging the room into complete darkness. "Well, shit... it looks like we're going to have to cut this one short."

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Just like the video before it, both the audio and visuals crackled with heavy interference as if threatening to cut out at any given moment. Between the near-pitch blackness and the static, it was difficult to discern if anything was even happening at all.

Then a rather pathetic, weak groan rose above the cacophony of far-off explosions and deep rumbles; it was as if the entire area was coming under heavy assault. When the visuals finally did become clear, the scene was literal carnage; the roof had partially collapsed and some of the supporting structure had fallen down along with it, making what used to be a medi-bay completely unrecognizable. Off to the left of the shot, a small fire was burning unchecked in the exposed cavity of the wall. As the emergency lighting strips along the floor came on, the room was illuminated in an eerie glow of weak, red hues.

"Log date is, uh. Who cares... i-it doesn't even matter..."

"Whatever possessed me to keep this thing in my pocket... I'll never know." The doctor focused the camera lens onto himself and then set it onto the floor in front of him. He was completely trapped and unable to move much more than his arm; the lower half of his body was heavily pinned under several large pieces of twisted debris, and the left side of his face was freely bleeding, his left eye swollen shut; he had obviously been struck by something large and sharp. "If... i-if anyone finds my work and actually makes use of it, then good for you... but know that the owners of this ship were careless, and that they deserved everything they got..."

One of the young bees suddenly bounded across the shot and stopped in front of her master, attracted to him by the scent of blood. In another moment, she was actively trying to groom him and clean the wound on his face.

"Fleur, don't. T-there's no point..." Ricktus gently nudged her aside and focused his attention back on the camera. "That's it, I-I... I'm done for. I don't know what the fuck happened here, but... o-oh god, it hurts." He put his head down on the ground as he felt himself slipping away, no longer having the strength to hold it up anymore. "So this is it, isn't it? This is how it ends... it's not what I expected, b-but... I'm sorry nothing worked out. There's not even anything useful I can say... w-what a pathetic mark to leave on the universe..."

He was silent for a short period of time. "I failed at everything I ever tried..." As he began resolving himself to the inevitable, a neon-green vortex swirled into existence right beside him. "Wh... what the HELL?!"

"Yo, fucker." A Rick dressed in light-blue scrubs stepped out of the portal and casually stood over him as if nothing outstanding was happening at all. "This ain't your grave if you don't want it to be." He carelessly dumped the first-aid kit he was carrying onto the floor and crouched down beside him. "Where's your portal gun at?"

"It's... it's back in my room..." Ricktus raised his head and stared up at the newcomer with his only good eye, absolutely confused out of his mind. "What are you even doing here...?"

"Saving your dumb ass if you want me to," the new arrival shrugged at him. "Or I can put you down and make this as quick as possible." He snapped on a pair of latex gloves and sifted through the first-aid kit for the supplies he needed. "It's up to you, but whatever you decide, I'm gonna need your portal gun."

"How did you know I was here...?" Ricktus continued to stare at him. "Where did you come from?"

"Ugh, really? Of all the questions, that's your angle?" The other Rick rolled his eyes and a wide smirk came over his face. "Well, suit yourself. When a mommy and a daddy love each other, they, uh... well, sometimes the daddy doesn't actually love the mommy, but he acts like he does so he can get some action, and-"

"G-goddammit!" Ricktus weakly hissed back at him in protest. "That's NOT what I meant!"

"You're the one who asked, bro." After preparing a syringe from an ampule he'd pulled from the first-aid kit, he held it upright and removed all traces of air from the tube. "So, your call. You want me to get you outta here? Or are you done? Pick one and make it snappy, because otherwise you're gonna bleed out."

"I... I-I don't want to die..." Ricktus admitted, the pain in his voice very apparent. "Not like this..."

"Yeah?" The other Rick's tone suddenly became sympathetic. "I know of at least three different Ricks who would be happy to hear that." He recapped the syringe and packed it away again. "You sure, buddy? Because nothing is ever gonna be the same again."

"I don't care... what's worse than this...?"

The answer seemed to satisfy the other Rick, because he got to his feet and began examining his surroundings. "Not much, if you want my opinion... but you really are stuck pretty good, aren't ya?"

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

The next video in the stack was recorded under much quieter circumstances, though it was obvious that the owner of the device was absolutely bored out of his mind, and not even the fact that the left side of his face was covered in gauze padding could conceal it as he focused the lens on himself. He was also wearing a light-blue gown and propped up on several pillows in a hospital bed. The recording stopped and started again several times simply because he was playing with the buttons.

"Log date i-" the video stopped briefly. "Whoops. Oh well... who can even tell what the date is when you're stuck in a place like this? Every day looks the same." As if to emphasize how dull his surroundings were, he turned the camera onto the room around him. He was in a sterile, white room that had a singular window framed with curtains, which were pulled back and letting fake sunlight into the room.

"Hey, who are you talkin' to?"

"Nobody." Ricktus grumpily answered, then ignored him. "So apparently, this is some crazy Rick's idea of an infirmary. Believe it or not, this whole place is run by Ricks for Ricks, a-and... I don't even know what to make of it. This isn't even the worst of i-"

"Why are you talkin' to nobody? It's cool with me, but we have enough crazy fuckers around here if you want the truth." The voice off-screen cut him off. "You know what you're filming right now is classified, right? They're probably gonna destroy the footage as soon as you leave."

"Oh, go away already!" Ricktus suddenly snapped at him. "Don't you have some other hopelessly pathetic Rick to annoy?"

"Nah, just you." As the Rick stepped into the right of the shot, he gave his patient a rather-friendly lopsided grin and tossed a large stack of paperwork onto the tray table at his bedside. "Whenever you're ready, fill these forms out. There's a lot to go through, but your knowledge can actually go on to help a whole lotta other Ricks."

"I can't believe you right now, you... y-you're asking for my help after you mauled me?!" The doctor yanked the blankets off himself to reveal what was left of his legs; two bandaged stumps that ended just above where his knees would have been. "I know you said that nothing would ever be the same again, but this is ludicrous! I'm starting to think I made the wrong choice."

"Ugh, you think you're the first Rick to lose a limb, dude? Well, two, but... quit being such a baby, it's not that bad."

"Are you kidding?!" The doctor barked at him. "Look at me, I'm a fucking cripple! I can't even wipe my own ass without needing help anymore, so how the hell am I supposed to help anyone else?! I-I'm absolutely fucking useless!"

"They wouldn't have asked me to pull you outta your dimension if you were useless. And need I remind you that your entire lower half was crushed under solid metal and debris? It was a mess, bro... you're pretty lucky to have escaped without losing more." The other Rick pulled up a chair to sit down beside him. "At least your junk is still intact. I'd be pretty fuckin' happy about that if I were you!" He impatiently rapped an index finger on the stack of papers. "Look, try not to think about it. Sure, it's a setback, but it's fixable. Just keep your brain occupied with this shit instead, it'll keep you going for a while. Once you're done, the boss is eager to meet up with you and pick your brains."

The next question was genuine. "What's going to happen to me...?"

"Eh, good question, but not mine to answer." The other Rick gave a nonchalant shrug. "You're in a Citadel full of frickin' geniuses, I'm pretty sure somebody can figure something out for ya. It's not the end of the world." He gave the camera a disapproving glance. "Why the hell do you keep on recording shit anyway? I know it's still running, 'cause the little red light is blinking."

"I use it like a dictaphone," Ricktus quickly explained. "I like to keep a record of where I've been so I can go back and review it."

"Well turn it off," the other Rick finally lost his patience. "It's stupid."

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Rick had completely lost track of time while immersed in his entertainment, at least until Morty began to stir awake; the little whimpers brought him back to his senses. His attention drifted towards the crib and he quietly watched, electing to leave the little boy to his own devices just to see where his mood would go. When the pathetic sounds died down again, he reached across to ruffle his hair.

"You're a good kid, Morty. You think you could try not bothering me now that you're up?" He asked him. "I like you and everything, but I was enjoying the peace and quiet." When he witnessed Morty trying to climb over the side, he promptly reached out to grab him before he could get too far. "Yeah... not very smart, little buddy. Here, why don't you come watch more of this crazy-ass shit with me?"

After settling Morty in his lap, Rick kept going. The rest of the video files were just more accounts of events on the ship after the doctor had returned to it, and he soon learned that the run-down ship had been used to continue working on Council-related projects. One such development was the curative serum; the doctor and his newly appointed assistant had created it by heavily modifying the syrup-like substance that the bee-hybrids produced.

Many of the earlier video-logs were legitimately amusing to watch; the doctor and his assistant seemed to have a playful back-and-forth game of interrupting and trying to insult each other in the background whenever a video was being recorded for the archives. In one video from the same time period, Surgeon Rick played a prank on his boss by stuffing the device down the front of his pants while recording.

Rick promptly shut it off before it could finish playing. "O-oh god... I didn't need to see that!"

After the curative serum was deemed a success, the nature of the work on board the ship shifted and so did the mood. The Council appointed the duo the task of cleaning up after dead-and-murdered Ricks on other timelines, and if Rick didn't know any better, he would have guessed that the grim nature of the job itself was the cause for the fracture in their alliance.

However, Rick did know better, but there was no satisfaction in having guessed the reason behind it all; it wasn't even his problem and he still felt apprehensive about it. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on Morty while in the doctor's presence; while he had said that he had no desire to take Morty away from him, he still wasn't certain if he could trust him or not.

The final video at the bottom of the list had been recorded only yesterday, and it hadn't been viewed before. Rick found that unusual, yet decided to watch it anyway.

\- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

"Hey, it's me," Surgeon Rick turned the camera onto himself and sat down in front of it. Behind him was his own workstation in the terminal hub, which was easy to tell because of the amount of rubbish scattered across it. "I was just thinkin' and, well..."

"I know you're eventually gonna see this. You've always been the type to go over your old stuff, because I'm convinced that you like torturing yourself." He folded his arms and glanced off to the side. "Man, I-I don't even know who you are anymore, and that's saying a lot coming from someone who basically IS you. You used to be fun and we actually used to be friends, but... I guess you lost it along the way? It's like you've become a different person, I-I can't even talk to you or anything."

"I was just thinkin' about what happened earlier, and it didn't feel right to leave things the way they were." His expression became serious as he focused his attention back on the camera. "I know why you're so mad all the time. You have every right to be, but... y-you don't have to be that way. We're gonna get there eventually, y'know?"

His brows creased in frustration as he got to the point. "Look, I'm gonna keep working with ya, but you really need to fix your shit. You've become completely unapproachable and the other guy is right, i-it's counterproductive. I wanna help you, bro. But... you keep making it impossible."

"I miss being able to tell you stuff without getting bitched at," he continued with his outstanding thought. "Remember when you actually valued my opinions on stuff? Well, I'm sitting here looking at the data on which we've been collaborating regarding the new guy, and... something's amiss. I think you're actually wrong on this one."

"The fact that I even had to make a video about this for you to find is pretty pathetic, but you gotta listen somehow, right?" Surgeon Rick leaned forward and placed his thumb over the record button, ready to turn it off again. "This guy's gonna die if you don't fix it soon. Do you wanna kill him because of your ego? Get over yourself and be prepared to let it go."

* * *

Rick was completely silent after the video had ended, the last words echoing through his head. He knew that his health was declining, but being hit with the suggestion that he was going to die was like a grounding reality; as much as he didn't want to be wrong, it was starting to make sense. He wasn't sure how to feel, and was only certain of one thing - he did not want to die while Morty still needed him.

"He really is a pain in the ass, isn't he?" A voice quietly spoke behind him. "He's just like an annoying kid-brother who doesn't know how to leave you alone."

Rick nearly jumped off his chair in surprise, but quickly caught himself. He froze solid in his posture, not knowing what else to do.

"Relax," Ricktus moved to stand beside him. "If I truly didn't want anybody to find my research and journals, I would have destroyed all traces of them long ago. Yeah, I know what you're thinking... they're incriminating as all hell, but I just can't bring myself to delete them." He let out a tense sigh. "I thought I could do anything. I was so naive."

Rick frowned up at him, not knowing what to say; he wasn't at all sorry for what he had done, only for being caught in the act.

"So, are you done yet?" Ricktus folded his scrawny arms across his chest. "How much more of my shit do you have to delve into before you've finally sated your curiosity? I don't know whether to feel violated or flattered that you're so interested in my work. You're doing all of this without my permission, but it's not like I can stop you." He scoffed. "You do what you want, right?"

Rick was quiet as he studied the doctor's face; he didn't seem unreasonably angry, which was surprising considering the circumstances. There was a whole string of queries he had, but found himself only asking the most outstanding one. "When did you get here?"

Ricktus actually had to smirk in amusement at the simplicity of such a question. "It's 9am, which means it's time for another fun-filled day at work. Have you been here all night?"

Rick nodded, seeing no reason to lie. "Y-yeah," he turned his gaze back towards the computer and closed the outstanding video file, even though there was little point in doing so now. "But I operate on a different timetable to you, so it's not like I'm sleep-deprived or anything."

"Well that much is good to hear, though I suggest getting your Morty into a sleeping routine at some point." The doctor moved away and stood over Surgeon Rick's workstation. "If you're going to sit there and keep prying into things that don't concern you, then you might as well make yourself useful and go over something else that has nothing to do with you." As he sifted through the junk in the top drawer, he angrily muttered to himself. "How can anyone work like this...?"

"Uh, sure?" Rick raised an eyebrow, finding it odd that he was still asking for his help despite the fact he had blatantly invaded his privacy. "What do you need?"

Ricktus removed a USB stick from his pants pocket and casually tossed it in Rick's direction. "The Council has had a specialist weapon commissioned on your suggestions. You're going to finalize the blueprints and tell me if they're any good or not."

Rick easily caught the small object and inserted it into his computer. "Well, that was fast... but what do you need me for? You don't trust your own guys to design decent shit for you?"

Ricktus made a soft, irritated sigh. "Do I have to spell everything out for you? I want your expert opinion and advice. You're the illegal arms dealer and the weapon designer, not me." He pulled the entire drawer out of Surgeon Rick's desk and set it down on top of it so he could more easily go through the contents. "If you want to build it in the electronics lab, be my guest."

"And what makes you think I wanna do that?" As Rick brought the blueprints up on screen, he immediately narrowed his eyes in disapproval. "Whoever made this didn't think about overheating... you're only going to get about five shots per minute out of this thing. Do the Korblocks in the dimension you're going to like to stand there and wait for their enemies to reload?"

"And there it is!" Ricktus suddenly declared, overly happy all of a sudden. "See? That's what I'm talking about, all that potential of yours can be useful if only directed properly. It's such a shame that you don't want to join the Citadel. All it took was one look at that blueprint and you're already seeing the flaws."

Rick snorted in disgust. "You say that when you don't even like the Council yourself."

"I have my reasons." Ricktus flatly told him. In another moment, his grumpy expression relaxed and his voice became much quieter and sincere. "How are you this morning? The assistant told me that you came back early, and that you're not feeling well. I am sorry to hear that." His gaze drifted towards the bandage on Rick's left hand, but he said nothing about it.

"I-I've had better days," Rick admitted with a small shrug. "But I'm OK."

"Is there any way I could convince you to let me extract another blood sample?" Ricktus stopped what he was doing with the open drawer and looked at him expectantly. "I'm still aiming to fix you fairly soon."

Rick shifted about in his chair to work his arms out of the sleeves of his lab coat while remaining seated. "Well, that's a dumb question... isn't that the reason you wanted me to come back in the first place?"

Ricktus nodded, seeming genuinely pleased. "I do believe that is actually the first time I've been able to get you to cooperate." He gathered up the supplies he needed, and then stood over the other to roll up his sleeve and begin working.

"Second." Rick grunted unkindly, then did his best to keep himself distracted with the blueprint designs while another batch of blood was drawn. "So what do you want me to do with this mess? Do you want me to... uh, redesign it, o-or just keep on telling you how shit it is?"

"Whatever it takes." Ricktus replied simply.

"In all honesty, i-it's not too bad, I guess... it could use a few design tweaks here and there, but... ugh, whatever. I guess I can do that once you give me my other arm back." Rick made a point of glaring at him. "So, random question for you."

"Hmm?" The doctor raised an eyebrow, but did not take his eyes off the job.

"The bees," Rick paused almost as immediately as he had begun, then scowled and went on with his question anyway. "How much of our intelligence do they really have?"

Ricktus said nothing initially and merely continued on with the task of collecting blood. Then, he flattened his brow and his voice became quiet and cold. "Just when I thought you were becoming agreeable, you go ahead and ruin it."

"It's a serious question." Rick stated bluntly. "Is it a little or a lot? Are they smart enough to formulate their own plans? Is that why they took over the ship? Have they worked out who created them, and are they going to revolt against you?"

"I very much doubt that." Ricktus replied. "All you need to know is that they're smart enough only where it counts." After finishing up with the job, he removed the needle from Rick's arm and clamped two gloved fingers down over the bleeding site.

"Smart enough to make their brainwaves traceable?" Rick challenged him. "If one of them doesn't have much intelligence on its own, surely hundreds of them would add up?" He paused in thought. "Or should I say thousands? Just how many of them are there, anyway? They must be really easy to track down as a collective, huh?"

"Fuck..." Ricktus suddenly swallowed a hard lump in his throat. "FUCK!"

"Oh, you didn't even think of that? What the hell is wrong with you?!" Rick growled back at him. "For a Rick, you don't seem very attentive or knowledgeable. I mean, you're a frickin' doctor and you're still making stupid guesses about what's wrong with me!"

"I could say the same about you!" Ricktus sharply retorted. "Put your thumb over this..." He huffily moved off to his own workstation and removed a small device from the top drawer. "For all our sakes, I hope you are wrong."

Rick did as he was instructed and watched him go, making careful note of the other Rick's walking gait. For somebody who had lost both of his legs, he was carrying himself surprisingly well. If he hadn't known any better, he wouldn't have noticed any differences at all. "What's that?"

"Council-developed technology," Ricktus muttered in reply. "Detects Rick brainwaves." After turning it on, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Well, it's not as bad as I thought, but... it's still picking up the equivalent of eight of us. Holy shit..." He sank into his chair.

"Does it even matter? Because it seems to me like the worst has already happened to this place." Rick swiveled around in his chair to face him. "If you're in danger, then why don't you just abandon ship and leave?"

"You... y-you don't understand..." Ricktus set his face in his hands and just sat there in an effort to contain himself.

"Actually," Rick carefully rolled his sleeve down again. "I think I do. You wanna succeed, and it's a huge blow to your ego when you fuck up, I-I totally get that. But even you've said so yourself, it's a lost cause. Unless..." He glared hard at him. "You've cloned my Morty, haven't you?"

"I can see why you would reach that conclusion, but... no." The reply was quiet and distracted. "I haven't been able to get anywhere near that place since coming back, the atmosphere has changed far too much. Carbon-dioxide concentration in that area of the ship is higher than 10%, and that's not even accounting for the other deadly gases. There's no safe way of getting in there, and they... well, they won't let me."

"They?" Rick raised an eyebrow. "Your own genetic creations?"

Ricktus nodded silently.

"Phh... so much for loyalty." Rick muttered as he scooped Morty up in his arms and got to his feet. "As much as I'd love to continue this conversation, this kid stinks. And unless you wanna do something about it and get some hands-on experience, I guess I'm stuck with it."

The scientist slipped out of the room, leaving his dimensional counterpart to wallow in his own misery. After reaching his personal quarters, he headed straight into the bathroom to give both himself and his grandson a much-needed shower. Although Morty chose to have a squealing tantrum throughout the whole affair, it was over and done with again within ten minutes.

By the time Rick had finished up and headed back towards the terminal hub, he could hear what sounded like a highly charged discussion echoing down the corridors.

"You goddamned idiot! How could you let this happen!?"

"I-it was an accident! You think I planned for this?! Ow ow ow, fuck! Stop it!"

"You goddamned moron, this is the worst possible timing!"

"Holy shit, I'm sorry, OK?!"

"I can't use you at all like this!"

"Oh god, it hurts! Stop DOING THAT!"

Rick hastened his pace at the declaration of pain; it sounded like the other two Ricks were involved in yet another heated argument or worse. "What are you two idiots going on about now? Don't you know how pointless it is to fight each other?!" However, as soon as he arrived in the doorway, he was met with the sight of Ricktus standing over his assistant, who was reclining in the computer chair at his workstation and had his right foot resting up on the table for examination.

"Stop moving around and let me look at it!" Ricktus grumpily demanded. "You think I want to hurt you?" He paused for a moment to prod the sides of Surgeon Rick's ankle with his index-and-middle fingers. "Does this hurt?"

Surgeon Rick's immediate reaction was a loud cry of protest. "OW, FUCK! O-of course it does!"

"Stay close, buddy." Rick firmly told Morty as he set him down on the ground beside him, then promptly moved the rest of the distance across the room to the other two Ricks. "What the hell happened?"

"I-I got careless..." Surgeon Rick closed his eyes and panted slightly as he fought through the pain. "Was supposed to be just another normal pickup, b-but..."

"You can tell us about it later." Ricktus frowned heavily. "What I need you to do right now is focus. Can you wiggle your toes for me? Do you think you could manage that?"

Surgeon Rick complied with the request, but it hurt so much that he had to clench his teeth.

"You think it's broken?" Rick wondered.

"No, that would be too easy..." Ricktus shook his head in thoughtful disagreement. "You've really only just met, so you can be forgiven for not knowing that C-711 has a tendency to whine like this." He placed a hand on his assistant's shoulder. "You're nothing but a big baby, you know. I'm going to take you down to the medi-bay for x-rays as a precaution."

"I don't whine..." Surgeon Rick grumbled. "Fuck you!"

Ricktus made a soft noise of mock-disappointment. "Hey, come on. You can do so much better than that." He moved to stand beside the surgeon's chair, then carefully supported his left arm around his shoulders as he hauled him to his feet. "You really couldn't have picked a more inopportune time to do this, you know. I kind of needed you in optimal form for the next live retrieval."

"Sucks to be you, doesn't it...?" Surgeon Rick grimaced in pain as he was forced to stand, and heavily leaned against the doctor. He attempted to place weight on his injured foot, then quickly decided it was a bad idea. "Ow, s-shit..."

"It actually does, because I can't do it alone. It's already going to be dangerous enough, and that Rick we're going to bust out is already in a bad way. If we leave him much longer, he's going to die." Ricktus hummed in thought. After another moment, his eyes widened as a positively crazy idea came to mind, and then he locked his gaze on Rick. "Hey, B-526... you want a job?"

"N-no, you can't be serious, boss... he's sick!" Surgeon Rick protested. "T-that's gotta be one of your worst ideas yet. Running around in high-risk situations is like, the LAST thing he should be doing!"

Ricktus ignored him, a wide, arrogant grin coming over his face. "He's already knowledgeable on how to kill Korblocks and how to effectively use the gun that the Council commissioned to do the job. Yes, it could work... it could totally work." He watched Rick hopefully. "What do you say?"

Rick glanced at Ricktus, then back at Surgeon Rick; it was completely impossible to tell who was thinking more clearly. When he realized that both of them were watching him expectantly and waiting for an answer, he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "What do you want me to do?"

Surgeon Rick gave him a harsh glare. "Don't do it, bro..." He turned his glare onto his boss. "You're both goddamned, irresponsible jerks!"


	22. Rickonnaissance Run

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is fanfiction and unlicensed/unofficial material.

 **NOTE:** This chapter was late because it's just involved and I wanted to make sure it was 100% before putting it out. It also certainly pushes the T rating: implied drug use, gratuitous gun violence and an attempted suicide. An entire adventure has been tied up in this chapter, which is also why it got so long. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 22 – Rickonnaissance Run  
** **  
** **November 30th, 10:40am, Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316**

* * *

Rick often had a habit of involving himself in things that did not concern him. It was nothing new to him and although he would forever be paying the price of interfering in an intergalactic war that hadn't been his to fight, he doubted he would have done things any differently if given the chance to go back and start over. It was just such a shame that Morty had to suffer for his mistakes; he still had no idea about what to do about him and worse, now there was the added possibility that he was running out of time. Although he'd had some time to think, he still hadn't come up with a viable solution just yet.

Instead, the scientist distracted himself by looking over blueprint designs for a gun that had nothing to do with him, so he could get himself involved in a live-retrieval mission that did not benefit him. He'd given up trying to reason through why he did things; there was a time when he convinced himself that it was because he wanted to correct injustice in the universe, but had long since decided that it was because he wanted to see the outcome, or even just because he could.

When Rick heard the doctor walking back into the room, he sat up at once and turned towards him. "So what happened?" As he asked the question, he realized how eager and concerned he sounded and quickly covered for it with a scowl. "Is your guy gonna be OK?"

"He'll be alright. As suspected, nothing was broken." Although Ricktus had picked up on Rick's tone, his tone was nothing but reassuring. "It was just a badly sprained ankle. A break actually would have been easier to deal with. Right now he needs rest, so I have instructed him to keep off it until it heals. If you see him walking around over the next couple of days, you have my full permission to kick his ass."

"Uh... OK?" Rick couldn't tell if he was being serious or not and didn't know how to react. In another moment, he decided that it didn't matter and nodded towards the screen in front of him. "I'm nearly finished with this bullshit, so let's talk shop. This thing might need more design tweaks once it's actually being constructed, but you can easily get twenty shots per minute out of it now. If you need more than twenty, then you've got bigger problems... switch to something else while it cools down or dump the clip and start again."

"Excellent." Ricktus moved to stand beside him and spent a few minutes reading the screen. "This is actually quite good. I bet you're keen to see it in action, aren't you?"

Rick shook his head. "No can do until Morty is sorted out. You still want me to go with? Well that's fine, but I'm sure as shit not leaving my grandson behind on his own and unattended."

"You... wouldn't be?" Ricktus raised an eyebrow. "Leave him with the assistant. It's not like C-711 can do much else while he's down and out. How hard could it possibly be?"

Rick took one look at Morty, then set his attention back on the doctor, his expression flat and unimpressed. "I'm guessing you haven't even bothered to spend more than five minutes around him. He's..." He paused as he tried to find the right words. "An annoying piece of shit! He doesn't know the meaning of privacy or alone time, a-and sometimes I haven't even been able to get any work done because of how much of my time he takes up. Are you SURE you wanna bother with a replacement, knowing all that?"

"Yes," Ricktus replied without hesitation. "But if that's how you really feel, then why do you keep him around?"

"Because I'm a fucking idiot." Rick replied matter-of-factly. "A-and because I owe him big time. Sure, I could hand him off to another Rick, but what would be the point? Besides... doing that would be an insult to my daughter's memory. He's... he's mine, y'know? I haven't decided what we're gonna do just yet, but whatever it is, I want him to be happy." As the last words came out, he felt a dull ache growing in his chest and he went quiet again.

The silence in the room became heavy. The only noises came from the constant thrum of the computer terminals all around them, and it was only broken again by the loud beeping of an overhead alert, causing both of them to jump.

"I'll get that." Ricktus was glad for the escape and promptly moved away to examine the issue. After a moment of reading, he gave a heavy sigh. "Another day, another dead Rick... it's always the same." He stood up tall and glanced at the doorway, suddenly seeming eager to leave. "You can stay here and keep working if you wish, but I have to tend to this one." Without waiting for a reply, he slipped out of the room.

Rick waited until he was gone, then promptly got stuck into the computer terminal with his most-outstanding thought - finding a more long-term solution to Morty's predicament. His initial plan was to just bail on his native dimension and to look for another to serve as a suitable replacement, even if it meant slipping into the place of another Rick's life. He knew that doing such a thing would be maddening torture because the family in whatever reality he chose would never be able to properly replace the one he had lost. However, Morty's happiness and well being meant far more to him than his own sanity and, he began to mentally prepare himself for whatever it would take.

Even as he ran the first queries through the database, it became clear that it was going to be a difficult task. In most cases, either the Rick or the Morty were still alive, or both of them, and Rick just didn't have it in him to dispose of a parallel version of himself. While the thought of killing another dimension's Morty had crossed his mind, it was just as quickly pushed out again; it felt utterly wrong and counterproductive, or would likely require so much effort that it ultimately wouldn't be worth it.

The next queries he ran were on dimensions that had already lost their Ricks and Mortys, but they contained more undesirable outcomes: intergalactic terrorism and sometimes intergalactic war. In the worst-case scenarios, there was complete and total annihilation of planet Earth and the Milky Way beyond it.

Each time he ran a search for a Rick who had been an active person in his daughter's life, he was met with the same three outcomes: the Rick had already died and the Morty was still alive, or the Rick was still alive and living out a normal life. Rick didn't want to deprive a happy Rick of what he once had, and the third outcome was completely useless: more planetary-wide destruction.

Running the query one more time gave him the most-infuriating result of all; there was only one dimension that met his exact search queries, and that was dimension B-526. It seemed that Rick's exact set of choices and circumstances were totally unique and there would never be another quite like him. Unbeknownst to him, these queries had already been run many times before, and his uniqueness was one of the reasons why the Council had wanted him in the first place.

No matter what parameters he entered into the database, it seemed like he would not find a suitable replacement reality in which both he and Morty could slip into. Then he realized that there was no point even bothering because the other Ricks had been right; his traceable brainwaves meant that he would hunted down by whatever despot or tyrant existed in the dimension in which he ended up.

He could never go home - none of them could.

It didn't even matter that there was an infinite number of timelines; he was bound by his mistakes and a prisoner to his own genius. Soon enough, not even that mattered; any alternative dimension choice would be pointless if he was only going to die.

Rick buried his face in his hands in defeat and didn't know whether to scream or break down; he was stuck in a seemingly hopeless situation and couldn't escape.

* * *

A few more hours had passed by the time Ricktus returned to the ship. He arrived with enough take-out containers of food for the other occupants on board because he wanted his assistant to stay off his feet, and because he knew that his charge would probably have been too busy to have thought about it.

When he didn't find Rick or Morty in the terminal hub, he went looking for them. Though, he didn't have to search for long and soon found them in the electronics lab. As he walked into the room, he immediately spotted a dozen near-complete desiccation guns across the surface of the work table, along with two other side projects Rick had been busy with; one was too small and incomplete to be recognizable, but the other looked suspiciously like a portal gun. The doctor found that last observation a bit odd; as far as he knew, Rick already had his back and it worked normally again. He found Rick not too far away from the table, crouched down on the floor and in the middle of changing Morty's diaper.

"So you decided to construct these after all," Ricktus walked the short length across to the table and leaned over the guns to examine them more closely. "You made all of these in just a few hours?"

"Yeah," Rick quietly returned. "Imagine what I could do if I had a whole day. There's more parts here than I know what to do with."

"Impressive. While I'm not sure that we needed this many, I appreciate the effort." Ricktus carefully set the containers of food down beside the other half-finished projects. "I brought a decent meal for you and your Morty. See that you eat as much as you can."

"I-I'm not really hungry." Rick admitted after a moment's silence.

"Oh?" The doctor raised an eyebrow in curiosity, immediately taking note of how distracted the scientist sounded; it was obvious that there was a lot on his mind. He wanted to ask about it but there was no feasible way to broach the topic; they weren't even friends and he knew that this Rick was as good at being evasive as he was. "Is this another symptom, or are you being obstinate again?"

"Phh... my hands are kinda contaminated with traces of biological waste down here." Rick grunted back at him while he finished the job. "It doesn't exactly inspire hunger." After pulling Morty's pants back up, he set the youngster on his feet and stood up again. "What did you bring this time?"

"Just roast beef and vegetables. Nothing particularly fancy, but it's what you should be eating instead of pizza and garbage all the time." Ricktus sounded slightly condescending as he answered the question. "I know a place that knows how to replicate a good, home-cooked meal."

"Uh-huh." Rick shrugged, indicating that he didn't care in the slightest. "Watch my Morty for a sec." "He slipped out of the room to find one of the bathrooms in the hallway so he could dispose of the old diaper and wash off his hands. By the time he returned, Ricktus had already settled Morty on one of the spare work tables and was busy feeding him. Rick certainly wasn't expecting that outcome; he literally had no reason to be doing it. He stood back for a few minutes to quietly observe, noting how patient and gentle the other was being with his grandson.

"Well, now you're just doing the easy part." The scientist grumbled as he retreated back to his work table and picked up a soldering iron to resume where he had left off. "Though I can't work out whether he's tolerating you because you have food, o-or because he genuinely likes you." Shaking his head, his voice became far less serious as he spoke the next words. "Just remember where your loyalties lie, Morty..."

Ricktus couldn't help but chuckle. "It must be the food. It's a pretty-big motivator." He moved his head in to watch Morty more closely, attentively scrutinizing him. "Because out of all three of us, I look the least like you. I've never seen this kind of cognitive intelligence in another Morty before... I still want to know how he's able to tell us apart."

Morty took the opportunity to snatch the glasses off the strange Rick's face once he was within grabbing distance. After inspecting them and after deciding that they weren't interesting, he threw them onto the floor.

"H-hey!"

"Humor me," Rick did not look up, keeping himself distracted with the task at hand. "Why are you doing that? If the other Ricks see Mortys as nothing more than baubles of amusement and novelties, then why don't you?"

"Rick," Ricktus sighed as he stood up properly again and set the container of food down at Morty's feet. "Ricks say a lot of things to sound tough or badass. I know it must be true to some extent, but... not all Ricks see a Morty as just an accessory or a plaything. You... do know that, right?"

"So why do YOU want one so bad?" Rick scowled as he finally finished off the first of the weapons, then set it aside to work on the next one down the line. "I'm stuck with mine. You're not."

"Well, it's really just an insult at this point. My universe dealt me a bad hand, and I want a re-roll-"

"This isn't a fucking game." Rick cut him off.

Ricktus ignored him and continued on with his explanation. "Most of the Ricks on the other timelines still have a Morty, so why did it have to be me that ended up like this?" He balled his hands into fists and gritted his teeth as the thought charged him with bitterness. "I want to replace what I've lost and," he quickly caught himself, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Nobody's keeping you here." Rick muttered in reply.

"Right," the doctor stood tall and decided to use the statement as an excuse to bail on the whole conversation. "Make sure that you actually eat the food that I've brought for you. You're going to need the calories." He bent down to retrieve his glasses from the floor and carefully repositioned them back on his face. "Be at the portal hub at 8:15 am tomorrow morning, sharp. I am most interested to see your gun design in action." He turned around and headed for the doorway. "Oh, and secure your Morty before he falls off."

"He's not that stu-" Rick began, then thought better of it and moved off his chair to retrieve Morty from the table. "Yes, yes he is."

Ricktus silently shook his head as he paced off down the corridor, leaving the other to his own devices, deciding that it was impossible to tell who was avoiding talking to whom.

* * *

An uneventful evening of finishing off the small production run of custom weapons was followed by an uninterrupted night of sleep and a fairly uneventful morning. However, the moment Rick had woken up, he felt like he had been kicked in the ribs and his stomach churned like he'd been drinking battery acid.

At least it didn't feel like it was going to revolt on him this time.

As he sleepily stumbled into the bathroom to begin his morning routine, the thought crossed his mind that he was starting to fall into the same sleeping patterns as the other Ricks on the ship. It wasn't a bad or a good thing, though; it was just different. He didn't pay it any more mind as he stood in front of the mirror and noticed how dark the circles under his eyes were. It gave him an empty feeling as he stared back at himself; his face didn't look like his own and he certainly didn't feel like himself either. His sickness was getting so obvious that there was little point in trying to deny it anymore. He hadn't wanted to admit it, least of all to himself. But now it was there all the same and he was confronted with it, whether he wanted to deal with it or not.

Rick was actually glad for the escape when Morty cried out for him from the bunk bed. After dealing with the little boy's outstanding issues, he was out in the hallway and at Surgeon Rick's door with his first priority of the day; making sure the little boy was left with somebody safe and secure. While it was the quickest-and-easiest option, he also figured it was a good one; he'd already observed Morty warming up enough to Surgeon Rick that he felt comfortable enough leaving him there.

However, despite knocking on the door a few times, he was met with silence.

"That's weird..." Rick muttered aloud to himself. After punching in the door code, he let himself in, making the effort to be quiet in case the other was still asleep. A quick glance around the room revealed that the intended occupant didn't even seem to be there, at least until he heard muffled coughing coming from behind the closed door of the bathroom. "Oh hey," he called out. "When you're done in there, can I talk to you?"

"Fuck!" The exclamation was accompanied by a loud, metallic clang. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! SHIT!" There were softer, metallic noises as it sounded like something was being dragged across the floor. Suddenly, the door swung open and Surgeon Rick leaned against the door frame to steady his balance, doing his best to look completely aloof and casual. "Sup?"

Rick raised an eyebrow in inquisition, but said nothing.

Realizing who was in his personal quarters, Surgeon Rick relaxed once again and a soft, lazy chuckle escaped him. "Oh hey, t-thank god it's just you, man." As he limped into the room, he clumsily shut the door behind him. "How ya doin' today?"

"I'm OK," Rick lied. "What the hell was that?"

Surgeon Rick did his best to look confused through a sleepy stare as he asked his own question in return. "What the hell was what?"

Rick took another moment to study the other male's face, a hard frown coming over him; both his denial and the suspicious behavior that accompanied it were obvious enough to see straight through all on their own, but he didn't look right somehow and appeared to be in a mild daze. "You wanna rethink that answer?" He tried again.

"Nah man," the reply was accompanied by a friendly grin, "I'm good."

Rick wasn't going to tolerate the behavior. "Cut the crap!" He finally snapped, completely unwilling to let it slide. "What the fuck was that all about?" Without even waiting for an answer, he pushed his first and most-obvious guess. "Are you high right now?"

Surgeon Rick's eyes widened and he tensed slightly, not knowing what to say initially. After a moment of silence, he turned his head away and glanced off to the side; he'd already taken too long to answer so anything he said now would be an admission of guilt. "N-no...?"

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't give a shit." Rick bluntly stated, his tone grumpy and scolding. "But you think I can't tell? I-it's fucking obvious... do I look stupid or something?"

"No..." Surgeon Rick shrank in his posture, acting like a child being scolded; he had a sinking feeling about where the conversation was about to go.

"Ugh, stop that!" Rick hissed back. "Look, I used to do all kinds of dumb shit when I was younger. I-if you can think of it, then I've probably already done it." He shook his head in disgust. "Of course I can guess what's going on here, but I'd prefer it if you didn't lie to me. Look, all Ricks have their vices, including me, and... it doesn't matter." He paused in thought. "What was it, anyway?"

"Nitrous oxide," Surgeon Rick couldn't bring himself to look up as he admitted to it. "I-I just wanted to take the edge off my pain. It... it fuckin' hurts, you know?"

Rick said nothing this time; he could definitely relate to that one.

"Besides... the high only lasts about ten to thirty seconds," Surgeon Rick explained as if trying to justify his actions, "I've nearly come down in the time you got here." A trace of stubbornness was discernible in his voice like he'd had to explain it many times before. "If anyone knows what they're doing, it's me."

Rick seemed satisfied with the answer; he knew enough about nitrous oxide to know that Surgeon Rick was telling the truth and decided to get to the point. "Can you watch Morty for a few hours? I'm gonna be late soon, a-and your boss is probably gonna be pissed about it." He finally set the little boy down on the floor beside him. "Don't get into anything you shouldn't, buddy."

Morty promptly hid in the tail of his grandfather's lab coat and clutched onto the fabric of his pant-leg with both hands; he wasn't feeling particularly sociable.

Surgeon Rick stared back at the scientist incredulously. "Holy shit... y-you..." He was utterly dumbfounded and needed a moment to recollect himself. "You're seriously asking me to mind your Morty after, uh...?" He was too ashamed to finish the sentence.

Rick gave him a short nod. "He's too young and stupid to take care of himself just yet. If you're not up to it I already have a backup plan, but it's only going to waste more time." He glanced back at the door. "Speaking of time..."

"Wow..." Surgeon Rick was taken aback; not only did this Rick seem genuine about not caring what he had just done, but now he was asking him to trust him with his most-valuable possession - his own Morty. "I can do it, but..."

"But?" Rick turned his attention back towards the surgeon.

"Can you be a bro and... not tell the boss about this? Can this be a secret between you and me?" Surgeon Rick bit his lip, not knowing how far he was pushing his luck. "It's a sore point... all I wanted to do was dull the pain, but the boss ain't gonna see it that way. Look, I'll... I-I'll do you a favor in return." He offered hopefully. "Anytime you need something done, I'll cover for you, no matter how shady. No questions asked, I'll just... lie for you. Like, the bro-code and everything."

"Bro-code? Is that seriously a thing?" Rick mused. "Now that you mention it, there IS one thing you can do for me."

"Name it," Surgeon Rick insisted immediately. "Though I hope you're not gonna get me to do it while I'm still limping around like a total moron."

"Next time you're off on one of your silly, dead-Rick adventures, take the plasma core out of the next portal gun you come across and give it to me." Rick told him. "I'm working on something and it's much easier to repurpose one than to make it from scratch."

Surgeon Rick nodded in agreement. "Phh, that's all? Consider it done, brother. Anything else?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something." Rick smirked. "Later though, I should probably get going."

Surgeon Rick just stood there, seeming incredibly conflicted; he knew he should be voicing his concerns, but he already knew it wasn't going to be taken well. "You're not... seriously gonna go out there and do what the boss wants, are you?"

"Yeah, I am." Rick answered. "The way he captured me was fucking uncalled for, so I wanna see if he does anything differently this time."

Surgeon Rick made a soft, tired sigh. "Surely he can find someone else..." He painfully hobbled towards the scientist and stood in front of him. "If you want my honest opinion, you shouldn't go, dude. Are you feeling OK? You look horrible."

"I'm fine," Rick quickly shrugged it off, "I could say the same about you."

"I-I'm being serious!" Surgeon Rick raised his voice and became agitated. "If I were the one running this damn project, I would've shipped you back to HQ and booked you an extended stay in the infirmary. Then I would've abused my contacts and started trying to work this one out for myself. I mean, I already have my suspicions, but..." He calmed down slightly. "I don't know what the boss is thinking. I dunno how much longer he's gonna drag this out, but he's being a fuckin' idiot about it. If Riq IV knew he was risking you like this, he'd be in so much shit!"

Rick just stood there and let him have his say. When the room was quiet again, he simply pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. "Wh-whatever. I gotta get a move on."

"Don't do it, bro," Surgeon Rick urged, making another attempt at trying to reason with him. "I dunno what's so damn important about you, but there's gotta more to it than everyone's letting on... the Council REALLY wanted you alive. What happened in Riq IV's office, anyway?"

"Phh... not much. Just a bunch of narcissistic fools trying to get information out of me. They tried to buy me off with accommodation and their stupid promise of 'safety'." Rick made air-quote gestures with his fingers in mockery of the word. "Fuck them. Everything about them was wrong."

"No way, there's gotta be more to it than that." Surgeon Rick furrowed his brows in thought. "They profiled your personality and everything. I'm pretty sure it's who you are, not what you know. I'm not sure they're wrong either... I've seen some shit already."

Rick narrowed his eyes. "Like what?"

"You're... you're not like the other Ricks," Surgeon Rick was closely staring at him now, his tone growing serious. "You actually give a damn about people. No other Rick carries around a Morty like you do, a-and you're not even doing it for the bragging rights. Hell, you barely even know me and you already spoke up on my behalf. You didn't have to do that, dude... you didn't gain anything out of it."

"So?" Rick scowled. "I saw a problem and wanted to correct it... it was bullshit. That's all."

"But see, that's what what I'm saying," Surgeon Rick went on with his thought. "You're not some throw-away generic self-serving idiot like the others... you're different. That's gotta be worth something, right? If you weren't so damn sick, I wouldn't care... you're big and stupid enough to go get yourself in harm's way without anyone's help. But with the way you are now? You're putting yourself in so much unnecessary danger, a-and you might not even be able to react as quickly as you normally would if you have to get away in a hurry. So don't do this mission thing, bro... it's not worth it."

Rick was feeling stubborn; the conversation was starting to feel very repetitive. "Are you done?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake... just what are you trying to prove, anyway!?" Surgeon Rick became angered and raised his voice all over again. "Do you wanna risk coming back in a body bag? What the hell do you think is gonna happen to your Morty if that happens!?"

"Actually, hold onto that thought," Rick glanced back at the doorway. "When I get back, I have a couple of things to run by you. Just get me that portal gun's plasma core and we'll go from there."

"Fuck when you get back! Don't go at all!" Surgeon Rick snapped at him. "You DO know the boss is only asking you to do this because you're the quickest option available, right? He used to be awesome like you, but... he's been blinded by his own selfish motivations and the big boss's stupid promises. Don't enable his bullshit!"

Rick had to raise an eyebrow at that. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno how much you've read. It wasn't cool to pry into his personal shit like that, but fuck it, honestly." Surgeon Rick grumpily folded his arms across his chest. "When I first met him, he was down on his luck... saving his ass left an impression on him. There was a time when getting his Morty back became secondary to helping the other Ricks of the multiverse, but it sure as shit ain't like that now." He glared hard at his dimensional counterpart. "Why are you gonna do what he's asking?"

"Because I wanna see what happens." Rick growled slightly as he finally nudged Morty off his leg and backed up towards the door. "Look, when I get back, we'll talk about this. I have a few ideas to run by you, and-"

"I've heard enough." Surgeon Rick cut him off and turned away. "You're really not gonna listen, are you?"

Rick's only reply was a loud, irritated sigh.

"Fuck you, then!" Surgeon Rick bitterly hissed; he really didn't mean to sound so angry, but the pain in his ankle was contributing to his bad mood and Rick's stubbornness wasn't helping in the slightest bit. "Go away and be an idiot, see if I care... b-but don't say I didn't warn you!" His shoulders sank in defeat. "I don't fucking understand you, bro... But for the love of god, keep your head down and be safe out there, OK?"

"I'll be fine." Rick tried to assure him.

Surgeon Rick finally turned back to face him again, though his expression wasn't any happier. "Oh, and thanks for being a bro about the... uh, thing." His mouth tensed in a hard line. "If the boss doesn't step up and do something soon, I think I'm gonna have to go behind his back and get a second opinion. Would you be interested?"

Rick considered the suggestion, though he was already wondering if it was worth bothering with; while he didn't particularly want to die, he didn't want to endure what could potentially mean months of painful medical procedures without even any guarantee of survival. "Can we discuss this later? I've got a couple of options at the moment."

Surgeon Rick nodded, finally calming down; it was as much consent as he needed. "Yeah, bro. Whatever you want."

"Good. See you later, then."

"Wait," Surgeon Rick's apprehension was obvious now. "You... you're actually cool with this, right? I mean... you're OK with leaving your Morty here despite knowing what I've been up to?"

Rick gave him a quiet, fed-up sigh. "Look, if I complained about something like that, I'd be the biggest hypocrite in the multiverse. I don't care what you get up to in the privacy of your own room. You made the effort to tell me the truth, so you earn points for that." His voice became low and dangerous. "Just make sure you don't do that stuff in front of the kid."

"Oh my god!" Surgeon Rick yelped in protest. "I would NEVER-"

"Relax," Rick silenced him again with a sharp dismissive wave of his hand. "You don't seem like the type." He pushed the door open. "See ya later, dipshit." As he departed the room, he could already hear Morty screaming out for him; so much for the little boy warming up to his dimensional-double's presence.

* * *

When Rick reached the meeting point, Ricktus was already standing near the portal hub, utterly still, and staring into space with narrowed eyes.

"So here I am, dumbass." Rick announced himself in a loud, grumpy voice. "Let's get this over with."

"Finally!" Ricktus folded his arms across his chest and tapped his left foot impatiently on the tiled floor. "I told you not to be late. What took you so long?"

"Oh, shut up." Rick growled as he moved to stand near the other. "YOU try dealing with more factors than yourself..." As he scowled back at him, the first thing he noticed about the doctor was his clothes - instead of the white coat and grey pants he normally wore, now he was dressed in an oversized, black hoodie, a ripped pair of black jeans, and scuffed-up old sneakers that looked like they were picked up straight from a thrift shop.

"Bad morning?" Ricktus offered. Once he finally got a good look at Rick in the dim light, he stared at him silently, observing the fact that he looked more than a little worse for wear. His first thought was to record it, and then he started to reconsider bringing him along with him at all.

"Why the hell are you dressed like a common street thug?" Rick practically blurted out the question. "It makes you look like an idiot."

Ricktus's first response was a soft chuckle; he'd concluded that his charge would probably be fine for the mission ahead if he was feeling as lively as he sounded. "I'm glad you asked that, because that's exactly the look we're going for today." He removed the glasses from his face and gently placed them down on the small table beside the portal hub. After picking up another set of the same clothes, he hesitated momentarily before handing them over. "Put these on. Make sure you wear the underlayers as well, because it's going to be cold. I'll wait for you, but hurry your ass up... if you need to bail, now is the time to say so."

"I'm fine." Rick lied as he took one look at the clothes, then fixed his glare back on the other. "Are you bad at listening, o-or are you just in the habit of not answering questions?" Despite his personal feelings, he snatched up the clothes and gave them a firm look of contempt. "Why do we even need these?"

"The place we're going to has an atmosphere not dissimilar to Earth's, but it's always below zero or worse. You'll want to dress for the occasion." Ricktus began to brief him. "It's a lawless planetoid and out of the Korblock's jurisdiction, but I've already received intel that they're going to arrive any moment and we need to beat them there." He turned his attention back towards the portal hub, seeming a little anxious. "There's only a few reasons you'd visit that planetoid... to get drunk, to get laid, or to get high. We need to look like their regular clientele, so I suggest you hurry up. I can explain the rest once we're on the other side."

"Whatever." Rick gruffly replied, then took off back down the corridor to find somewhere to change. When he came back, he was already fidgeting with the sleeves of the hoodie, because no matter how he adjusted them, they wanted to bunch up at his wrists or cover his hands entirely. He had also removed the bandage from his left hand during his time away and was pleased to discover the cut underneath had already sealed itself up.

Ricktus couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Rick's new attire; he looked as ridiculous as he felt. He put his mind back on track and picked up two of the desiccation weapons that Rick had constructed the night before, along with a very-average-looking plasma gun. "Keep these concealed," he handed them over with a smirk. "And try not to point them at yourself this time."

"You're an asshole..." Rick growled bitterly as he snatched them up and stuffed them into his pockets. "O-of course I'm not going to do that!"

"I wouldn't know. You're unpredictable at the best of times." Ricktus stepped into Rick's personal space as his expression turned cold and lightly thumped him in the chest in what was little more than a display of dominance. "I know this is hard for you to understand, but I'm in charge here. You would do well to keep your temper in check today."

Rick made a loud growl in protest and shoved him away again. "Fuck you! L-let's just get this over already!"

"I couldn't agree more," the doctor nodded as he stepped away again to punch the coordinates into the portal-hub console, then picked up a first-aid kit that was waiting for him on the table. "Remember, we're a team. So shut up and do everything I tell you."

* * *

 **December 1st** **, 10:25pm, Local Time, 2001  
Unnamed Planetoid  
Idellus Cluster, Dimension D-491**

* * *

Rick was glad he'd listened to the doctor's advice about wearing the thermal undergarments. After arriving in the dark alleyway on the other side of the portal, the first thing to hit him was the harsh, cold bite of wind blowing straight through the area, and even though he was wearing multiple layers of clothing, it still cut through him like daggers of ice.

The alley was just like any other he'd seen before; full of garbage and dumpsters, empty kegs stacked up against one of the walls, and trash bags filled with discarded unknowns. In the back corner, an alien corpse lay in a state of advanced decay, along with several small, scavenger-like creatures who were busy crawling all over and gnawing on it.

The first thing Ricktus did after coming through the portal was take a small handheld device out of his pocket and wave it around as if scanning for something. "He's still alive... but we'd better get moving before they work out there's more of us here than there should be." His gaze lingered on the screen before he put it away. "It's already -4°F... and it's only going to get colder as the night sets in. Come over here."

Rick made a short growl of discontentment, but did as he was told.

"Oh, would you stop that? At least your bad attitude helps you look the part. If you keep that up, nobody's going to fuck with you." Ricktus made a soft chuckle as he paced around Rick, carefully checking him over. "We need to look inconspicuous if we're going to pull this off properly. The Rick who lives in this dimension is rather well known to the point of being infamous. He owns an underground nightclub nearby and that's where we're heading." He stood in front of the scientist and reached past his shoulders to pull the hood over his head, carefully tucking in his hair spikes while he did so. "We don't want to look like him if we can help it."

Rick glared back at the doctor the entire time, silently expressing the fact that he didn't appreciate him being so close in his personal space. Once it was done, he merely stepped back and grumpily stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Seeming content with Rick's appearance, the doctor did the same to himself. "I'm serious about staying close," he hurriedly went on. "Humans are a rarity in this universe and I'm sure that one of the natives wouldn't hesitate to snatch one of us up if they knew they were going to make a profit out of it."

"Yeah," Rick hissed back in spite, "I-I know what that feels like."

Ricktus chose to ignore him as he led the way out onto the street.

Despite the planetoid being in a remote location, the sidewalk was still abuzz with nightlife activity. Aliens were bathed in the glow of neon lights overhead while they moved through the area, some of them in more of a hurry than others. They were in various states of dress - some wore sleeveless tops while others were completely covered up to nearly naked; anything and everything seemed to be standard fare. The bustle of life combined with road traffic created a unique sound to the area and for the short time he was there, Rick was a little impressed that such a place could operate peacefully without laws or government.

Another sharp gust of icy-cold wind swept down the street, but nobody seemed to notice or care.

As Rick continued to follow close behind his dimensional double, he passed by street hawkers who were openly selling everything from illicit substances, to black market items, to vials of exotic diseases. While he was curious to take a look, he didn't; they had an outstanding objective to fulfill and it was far more important than some useless side attraction.

"If you want a quick rundown of the situation here," Ricktus suddenly spoke again, "I'd be happy to give it to you. This dimension's dictatorship problems are even worse than yours or mine. Most of the local galaxy systems have been conquered by Korblocks, and their leader is a despot with similar objectives to the Galactic Federation: own everything until you control it." He shook his head in disgust. "The Rick who lives here hasn't known freedom like you or I have. Planet Earth was practically defenseless when the Korblocks came for it... they killed off all the undesirable humans and now they breed survivors for the captive pet market. As great as it sounds to have your own harem, you'd essentially be a slave, so... don't let them catch you."

"I'd like to see them try." Rick subtly put his right hand into his pocket and grasped the handle the gun he'd stashed there. He took in a long, deep breath and slowly let it out again in the attempt to keep himself calm as he continued to follow. While he hadn't wanted a history lesson, it was still vaguely interesting; he'd just learned that the doctor's dimension had dictator problems of its own. It made sense considering the video files and the attack on the ship, and he found himself wanting to know just what was responsible for it.

"The Rick we're rescuing today was born into the pet trade, but he managed to escape it," Ricktus continued with the story. "He ran a successful nightclub here for most of his adult life, but his business partner recently decided to turn him in. His intelligence and genetics are worth so much now that it has become more valuable to sell him off than to keep him around and help run the show. I also hear he's a bit of a loose cannon, so... use caution."

"You're warning me to be cautious of a Rick?" Rick scowled at him. "What could possibly be worse than you?"

Ricktus turned his head back to give him a smug, egotistical grin, then returned his attention ahead of himself. "Hah, very funny. You're lucky it was just me who caught you and not something worse." He came to a halt, then turned down a narrow corridor between two derelict buildings. "It's down this way... pay attention, don't say anything, and don't screw this up."

The end of the corridor was guarded by a massive beast of an alien that had six limbs, and its head narrowly missed the ceiling. It regarded the two hooded figures with a wordless communicative grunt, then turned around and began to guide the way through the winding caverns beyond the street. Not even five minutes later, they were deep within the bowels of the planetoid. Just as the light faded, the lumbering monster stopped at the doorway of the venue and shoved the door open.

"The bouncer didn't even check us..." Rick muttered as he quickly slipped by, his words nearly drowned out by the loud blaring music inside.

"Why bother?" Ricktus followed in after him. "Humans don't pose a threat here. This Rick also has a particular fondness for them, both as clients and as potential... uh... partners." He awkwardly cleared his throat and moved away to find a free table. "Well, I'm sure you've already figured out what kind of place this is. Even though it's still business as usual, things are going to get messy if that changes." A sly grin grew across his face. "I strongly suggest resisting the urge to pick up. As C-711 would say, 'bros before hoes'."

"You're no brother of mine." Rick growled in reply.

While the nightclub was nothing more than a large underground bunker, it was decorated in deep shades of blue and gaudy neon advertising illuminated the walls. In the middle of the room stood a raised platform with a hefty, oval-shaped cage, along with a bright pink alien that was busy dancing inside, gyrating her midsection in time to the music and caressing the bars with her tentacles.

Rick gave the dancer a harsh look and swallowed in discomfort; the acidic feeling in his stomach had returned and now nausea was creeping in to accompany it. "So what happens now?" He joined the doctor at the table he had picked out.

"We do what we do best - we drink and we wait." Ricktus casually raised his index and middle finger as he signaled one of the attendants over. "Oh, and advance warning... don't drink anything that doesn't come directly from the employees. You wouldn't want to find yourself waking up naked in an unfortunate gang-related incident." He momentarily leaned under the table to stash his first-aid kit.

"I-I don't plan on it..."

When the first round of shot glasses arrived at the table, Rick downed them without thinking about it; he wanted to kill the unpleasant feelings growing in the pit of his stomach and didn't care what he was drinking. While the taste was unrecognizable, the familiarity of alcohol stabbed at his tongue and burned the whole way down. When he picked up the fourth shot, it was smacked out of his hand. "Hey, what the hell?!"

"Don't overdo it," Ricktus matched his sour expression, "I need you to stay sharp and focused. Plus, I distinctly remember telling you to take it easy on the booze until we can fix you again... are you sure it's just me who's bad at listening? Are you even trying?"

"What's the point of going to a sleazy underground club if you can't even drink?!" Rick angrily retorted. "This is bullshit! What else am I supposed to do?!"

"You can shut up and pay attention to what's going on around us, for starters." Ricktus nodded towards the bar as he lowered his voice to a soft murmur. "See that door behind the bartender? Everywhere else in this place is accessible to the customers, even the private rooms in the back. You can literally just walk in there and join them if you were so inclined. You can go anywhere, except near that one door... I've never seen anyone come in or go out, and that bartender is armed to the teeth like he's guarding it. That has to be where they're keeping him."

Rick subtly turned his gaze towards the aforementioned door, then resumed glaring at his spilled shot glass; at least none had gotten on him. "How do you plan on getting in?" He swallowed hard; the shots were already putting up a fight and didn't want to stay down.

"Take out that bartender... that's the key to getting through the door. We need some kind of distraction, or to wait until their shift changes over." Ricktus narrowed his eyes in thought. "I still haven't really thought about it."

The doctor never finished his sentence. Five small, nervous aliens suddenly came in through the doorway in a hurry, escorted by an entire troop of armored Korblocks. As they piled into the venue and began to patrol through the area, they were largely ignored by the other patrons. Some of them threw money at the caged entertainment as she continued her slow, sensuous dance.

"Fuck, not now!" Ricktus suddenly lowered his head and partially covered his face with a hand, trying to look less conspicuous. "This is very bad timing... damn it! They're not supposed to be here yet... I-I haven't even worked out a viable strategy with you yet... what are we going do to?"

Rick suddenly moved to his feet as he felt the bile rising in his throat; he was about to lose the contents of his stomach. "I-I'll be back." He briskly took off in the direction of the bathroom without waiting for a reply.

"Where are you going!?" Ricktus hissed in anger, only to sit up properly as he watched his charge disappear behind the door. "Oh my god, Rick... you're a goddamn genius, they won't bother listening to us in there!"

He abandoned the first aid-kit at the table as he moved to his feet and followed after the scientist. However, by the time he made it into the bathroom, Rick had already locked the cubicle door behind him and was completely preoccupied with throwing his guts up.

Ricktus made a heavy, frustrated sigh at the sound. "Why didn't you tell me that you weren't feeling well? I even gave you the opportunity to bail beforehand." There was little else he could do but stand on the other side of the door and wait it out. "While a symptom like this is diagnostically important, you're useless to me in that state. When were you planning to speak up about it?"

"I wasn't actual-" Rick's voice was suddenly cut off by a coughing fit and another round of loud, guttural retching.

"Why the hell not!?" The doctor's tone suddenly grew harsh and authoritative. "This shit is kind of important for me to know!"

"Because," Rick snapped back at him, "I-I don't know, maybe it's none of your fucking business!? I don't want to talk about it, o-or about any other part of my anatomy for that matter!"

Ricktus raised both eyebrows in response. "What other part of your anatomy is troubling y-"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" Rick barked over his words. "Are you deaf, too!?"

The sound of the heated discussion had attracted the attention of one of the patrolling Korblocks. Just as it slithered into the room, Ricktus dove under the door of the cubicle in an attempt to evade being seen.

"G-get out!" Rick demanded as he swung his head around to glare wild-eyed at the intruder, then finally stood up to wipe his mouth off on his sleeve; throwing up usually made him feel better, but he was far too riled up this time.

"Shh, shut up!" Ricktus chastised him in a harsh whisper. "Do you want it to find out who we are and what we're doing here?!" He stood tall for a moment to peer over the top of the stall, then ducked his head again. "Oh shit... its already seen us..."

The Korblock began to make its way down the line of cubicles. _"Knock it off down there!"_ The command sounded far more mechanical than natural; the only way it could communicate its alien language to such primitive creatures was through the translator device it carried around.

Ricktus thought fast as he looked at the elongated, yellow slug-like foot coming to a halt outside the cubicle door, then back at Rick who was still glaring at him; whatever he chose to do, it would have to be now. "Quick," he instructed Rick in a low whisper, "bend over and sound like you're getting the best sex you've ever had in your life."

"Wh-what?!" Rick flinched like he'd been struck as he choked the words out. "From you...!?"

"Oh goddamn it, I'll do it then." Ricktus used both hands to brace himself on the cubicle wall as he bent over. "Get behind me."

Rick stared at him like he'd gone completely insane and needed a moment to remind himself that this was indeed real and actually happening to him. When he heard the loud banging on the door, he reluctantly stepped back from the toilet and moved to stand against his dimensional counterpart's behind. "D-don't make this any weirder than it has to be..."

"Oh god!" Ricktus slammed a hand against the wall as he began acting out the motions. He made loud exaggerated panting noises as he put his head down and did his best to sound like he was really getting into it. "Do it harder... j-just like that. Don't stop!"

"Y-you're... not even convincing..." Rick grumpily muttered under his breath. "My ex-wife was better at faking it than you are..."

The Korblock peered over the top of the cubicle and locked its beady, multi-irised red eyes on the two smaller bipeds. It made three short, wet gurgles in disgust and slithered away again, dismissing them as unimportant. _"Can't even find a female to mate with? You stupid humans are the reason we have breeding programs. No wonder your whole species is circling the goddamn drain."_

"Hey, wait... what's it to you, anyway!?" Rick retorted, feeling his anger rising; there were many things he could tolerate, but the insinuation that one element of his sexuality was somehow inferior to another wasn't one of them. "I can fuck whoever I want to!"

"Oh god, Rick, shut up... shut up!" Ricktus buried his face in his hands; the diversion had been successful and he wanted to keep it that way.

"NO!" Rick straightened himself up again, his voice full of indignation. "A-are you SERIOUSLY gonna let him get away with that kind of intolerant bullshit!?" He unlocked the cubicle door and kicked it open in his fury. "What the hell is wrong with you?! I-if my species is doomed, then why does it even matter? What business is it of yours, anyway!?"

The Korblock's external head fins raised high over its head as it turned around again, deciding that the angry little human was hostile. It made loud screeches as it drew its weapon, but Rick was much quicker; before it could pull the trigger, Rick had pulled both desiccation guns out of his pockets and fired, disintegrating both of its hands in an instant. It didn't even have time to react as four more shots landed straight in its eyes, and the Korblock howled in torment as its body melted and shriveled away, becoming a barely recognizable, dehydrated lump of flesh in the space of a few seconds.

"Well," Rick returned the desiccation guns to his pockets, feeling satisfied with how effective they had been. "I guess you can say that I've fucked you, too."

Ricktus stumbled out of the cubicle after the exchange was over and dumbly stared at the mess. "Wh-what the hell? Why did you do that!?"

"Please... you asked me what to do, and I improvised." Rick rolled his eyes. "Were you seriously going to let him get away with what he said to me? Besides... now we have a pretty-damn-credible distraction, a-and whatever these are." He crouched down beside the remains of the corpse to carefully pick up the Korblock blaster, as well as the language translator it had been using to speak. "You never know when you're gonna need more ammo."

"Well, I suppose a dead patrol guard counts as a distraction but it's not really my style..." Ricktus grumpily muttered as he stepped over the corpse and stood at the door to the bathroom, then cracked it open to peer into the nightclub beyond. "Nobody else is coming... you got lucky this time."

"Good. That gives us more options to work with." Rick stood up again. "So how do you wanna do this? Do you wanna play the victim card, o-or do you wanna be a terrorist and shoot the place up?"

"Don't forget why we're here. We still need to get the Rick out alive, so I'd prefer to slip out quietly if we can help it." Ricktus admitted. "I'm much better at playing the victim."

"Oh, I bet you are." Rick stashed the blaster and the translator in the front pockets of his hoodie. He had no real plans for them, but stealing alien technology had never done him wrong.

"Shut up, B-526..." Ricktus sighed in exasperation. After pushing the door open all the way, he moved back into the main area of the nightclub and acted out his best impression of alarm and panic. "Oh god, please help us! There's been a shooting and one of the guards is dead!"

Five members of the Korblock patrol immediately abandoned what they were doing to slither towards the pair of humans, though none of them seemed particularly convinced by the story. A few other club patrons looked up towards the source of the disturbance, but nobody else in the club seemed to care.

"Well, shit... that didn't work." Ricktus mumbled nervously, his attention glued to their blasters.

"Yeah?" Rick took two steps away from the door and hastily redrew his own weapons in return. "Do you think it might be because of your terrible acting? Should I fake the orgasm next time?"

"Be quiet!" Ricktus grumpily mumbled back at him. "Now what are we supposed to do?"

"Well," Rick started, but had to duck as the first shots sailed over his head. He promptly kicked a table over to use as cover and immediately scooted behind it. "Get down for starters!"

"You damn crazy lunatic!" Ricktus hunkered down behind the overturned table beside him and began to shoot back at the Korblocks in a nervous panic. "This is your fault! I-I didn't want this at all!"

Rick ignored his protests and continued firing at the guards. It didn't take long for the entire nightclub to erupt into a chaotic firefight of its own; the customers needed no motivation to draw their own weapons and join in with shooting at the members of the oppressive dictatorship that had been holding them down. After the Korblock patrol was dead, they attacked each other as species-based disputes and rivalries came into the fray. Before long, the air was filled with plasma fire haphazardly flying in all directions, along with the smell of burning flesh as aliens were shot at and killed. Through it all, the tentacled dancer continued straddling her cage as if the scene around her were an everyday occurrence.

Rick quickly dispatched the bartender with four rounds of plasma fire from his ray gun while it was distracted, then crawled across the floor and hid behind the bar, glad for the fact that everyone seemed far more interested in shooting at each other than at him. "Are you coming with? This was the distraction you wanted, right? Unless you'd rather stay there, of course."

"Goddammit, NO!" Ricktus growled as he scrambled across the floor for his first-aid kit, then joined the scientist behind the bar only a few seconds later. "I hope you're happy with yourself," he waved a hand at the area beyond him. "Look at all these crazy idiots killing each other because of your actions!"

"You're blaming me for this? I didn't exactly tell them to start the shooting gallery antics! Looks like they're doing that all one their own to me. All I did was give them an excuse." Rick carefully eased the door behind the bar open and peered into the darkness. "Besides, you're where you wanted to be, right? Who cares if a bunch of aliens have to die in the process of completing your objective?"

Ricktus made a loud, frustrated sigh as he pushed past him and navigated his way into the pitch blackness; although he very much wanted to scold Rick for his reckless behavior, he was right and there was little point in arguing about it. After stumbling over several objects in the dark, he pulled his portal gun out of his pocket and used the light of the plasma sphere inside the bulb to illuminate the way ahead.

"The way you do things is stupid," the doctor loudly grumbled. "I watched you for a long time before finally capturing you. It's like you don't even think about what you do, but somehow you always end up surviving in spite of everything." A dry laugh escaped him. "You really ARE too stubborn to die, aren't you?"

Rick rolled his eyes and brushed a hand against the wall, feeling for anything that might be useful. "Have we failed yet? No? Then shut up." He found a light switch and turned it on, illuminating the room in a weak glow; they appeared to be in some kind of liquor-storage cellar. "Huh, well that makes sense... no wonder the bartender was guarding it. Feel like indulging in the spoils of war?"

A weak voice called out to them from the back of the room. "I-if you even think about doin' that... I'm gonna have to cut ya..."

Ricktus immediately took off in the direction of the sound and found his intended target; a rather haggard-looking Rick was seated on the ground and slumped forwards against his restraints. His arms were bound behind him and tied up to one of the supporting pylons of the building, and a hessian sack was pulled over his head. The gaudy-colored suit he wore was ripped and spattered with dried blood, suggesting that he had been tortured or beaten up during his time as a captive.

"You guys don't sound like Korblocks..." The Rick weakly raised his head towards the source of the footsteps as he heard them approach. "Flerbax? Humans? You comin' to bust me out, or are ya gonna sell me off for millions of blemflarcks?"

Ricktus crouched down beside the Rick and carefully pried the sack off his head. After rummaging through his first-aid kit, he pulled out a bottle of water, took the cap off, and held it out for him to drink from. "Where's your portal gun?"

"In a lock-box, behind the bar..." The Rick replied, then tilted his head forward to get his mouth around the neck of the bottle, downing half of it within seconds.

Rick was unwilling to do much more than stand back and observe; while he supposed what the doctor was doing was important, he was already annoyed. "You're not even going to tell him who we are and what we're doing here? You don't wanna put his mind at ease first?"

"We have all the time in the world to explain everything once we're safe and back on the ship." Ricktus sighed in frustration. "Right now, I need you to shut up and guard the door while I get this one secure."

"Hey, h-he's right you know..." The Rick turned his head away after swallowing another large mouthful of water. "You wanna tell me who the fuck you are, a-and what you're doing here? 'Cause I'm sure as shit not goin' with you if you're only gonna sell me off."

"Look, keep your mouth shut." Ricktus scowled down at him. "Do I look like I'm part of that stupid Korblock regime? You know I'm not. Just be quiet and let me take care of you. I'll answer all your questions in good time." He stood up and moved around the back of the pylon to cut the captive's restraints free. "Oh my god... what happened to your hand?"

"Fuckin' assholes and their information-gathering tactics..." The Rick bitterly replied. After his arms had been cut loose, he nursed what was left of his left hand in his right; it was smashed up beyond recognition and three of his fingers were missing. "Who sent you?" He became suspicious. "You're Ricks, right?"

Ricktus casually dodged the question. "We'll probably have to amputate that, but don't worry about it, OK? I know somebody who can hook you up with an adequate replacement."

"Is that what happened to you?" Rick let the question slip as he peered back out the door and watched the firefight continuing on in the nightclub.

"Rick," Ricktus's voice became low and dangerous. "This is hardly the time or place for that sort of discussion... you would do well to shut up and mind your own business."

"Well, I didn't find it in your stupid diary just yet." Rick persisted with his thought. "It's an opportunity to have a real conversation with me instead of being an evasive, little bitch, y'know?"

"My, that really would be something, wouldn't it...?" The doctor's voice had gone ice cold.

Meanwhile, the Rick on the floor had his attention glued to his rescuer's faces while their less-than-friendly exchange took place, the whole thing reminding him far too much of himself. "Y-you know coming here was a bad idea, right? If they catch you, we're all just gonna end up back in their crazy breeding program... and I'm tired of fucking random people. Don't make me go back there!"

It was enough to get Rick's mind back on track. "Come on," he scowled back at the doctor. "At give him some kind of intel here. Look at him, he's scared. You think he's gonna cooperate with you once he starts getting crazy and irrational?"

"I'm not scared!" The Rick loudly protested. "Wh-who the fuck do you think you are!? You don't know me!"

"I AM you, stupid." Rick rolled his eyes. "And believe it or not, I was in a similar situation not too long ago. Look..." He momentarily glanced back at the doorway; he could hear the situation outside continue to degrade by the second. "Although I don't wanna admit it, yeah, I was pretty scared as well. But this guy isn't interested in selling you off, and neither am I."

"So why are you here?" The Rick glared up at him.

"Please, do us all a favor and just shut the fuck up, Rick." Ricktus warned as he removed the last of the ropes from the pylon. "I generally find it easier to explain their situation to them once they're in an environment where they can't hurt themselves. I haven't read up on this Rick's profile yet, but it's a pretty safe bet to assume he's either suicidal or eager to put up a fight. He'll be much happier once he's been fed, and is safe back on my ship."

"Wait, what...?" The captive Rick painfully slumped forwards as he was finally freed of his restraints; he'd been there so long that all his joints were stiff. "Where are we going?"

Ricktus made another loud, frustrated sigh. "And this is why you shut up."

"That's stupid!" Rick protested. "A-at least tell him something! Don't you think he'd be better off if he knows what the fuck is going on?! You're scaring the shit outta him!"

"Um, hello? I'm still here." The Rick scowled. "Who sent you? If you're not part of the Korblock regime and you're me, then... o-oh my god." He lowered his head and loudly groaned. "You're... you're Sancheziminius's debt collectors, aren't you...?"

It was Ricktus's turn to look confused now. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"I-I kinda fucked him over," the Rick admitted as he glanced off to the side, sinking into a defeated posture. "He supplies me with shit and I sell it for him. A couple of months ago I was goin' through a rough patch and needed to use it all instead. But I swear, I was gonna pay it all back with interest! You're here to take me back to him, aren't ya? I'm gonna get kneecapped. Holy shit, I never thought it'd come to this..."

"NO." Ricktus firmly replied, though it was more out of defense than anything else. "My only goal is to get you out alive and to safety. Can you stand?" He returned his attention towards Rick. "This needs to end NOW. Set your portal gun to 40512-4DD567127Z3-53995483-09995-Q-316."

"Safety...?" The Rick rested his head back against the pylon and a soft, dry chuckle escaped him. "What even is that...? Korblocks... the Council of Ricks... it's all the same shit. You're just trading me off from one dictatorship to another."

"The Council of Ricks isn't a dictatorship." Ricktus narrowed his eyes. "They're more focused on administration of the multiverse. They also provide knowledge and the Citadel serves as a sanctuary to Ricks like you."

"Been there, done that..." The other Rick shrugged. "What's the use? Fuck the Council of Ricks."

"Hey, now he's talking!" Rick's face lit up in a grin. "Look, you don't even have to go back there if you don't want to. Just get away from here and establish yourself somewhere else. Do you have a family you can go back to?"

"Family...?" The Rick's voice suddenly sounded distant, like the concept was entirely foreign to him. "Fuck, man... any family I ever had got murdered in the genetic cull. All my kids got sold off, too. Hell, some of them are probably old enough to have kids of their own by now."

"Rick, stop. We need to cut this short." Ricktus sharply prompted him. "All of this is better discussed back on the ship, so get us out of here."

Just as Rick took out his portal gun to bring up the coordinates, the overhead lights faded and the room was thrown into pitch darkness. The plasma sphere in the middle of the bulb disintegrated and the device appeared to go dead entirely. "H-hey, what the hell?!" He gave the portal gun an aggressive thump, but nothing happened. "What gives? Does yours work?"

Ricktus took out his own portal gun to test, but it was as unresponsive as Rick's.

"Oh boy, you're SO screwed now..."

"What are you talking about? Do you know what's causing this?!" Ricktus angrily demanded.

"Sure do. It's probably their plasma-suppression field," the Rick answered wearily. "It's a Korblock crowd-controlling device they abuse to stop insurgents from rising up against them... they probably brought it with them and activated it because my customers are crazy-ass sons of bitches. Wow, so Sancheziminius didn't think to warn you about that little detail? You... y-you didn't stop to think about why I'm not the most superior lifeform in my dimension?"

"Well, shit... I didn't plan for this." Ricktus sounded genuinely upset. "Now what are we supposed to do?"

"You didn't have a backup plan? Why am I not surprised?" Rick growled as he took the desiccation guns out of his pockets once again, resolving his mind to take charge of the situation; as far as he was concerned, the doctor had proven multiple times that he was completely hopeless. "It's a good thing these aren't plasma-based, huh?" He turned around and headed back towards the door they had used to come in. "Dumbass, you secure the Rick. Let's get outta here."

"How are you going to do that?" Ricktus sounded unsure and worried by this point; being thrown into the middle of an unplanned situation was bad enough, but now he was responsible for two other lives. "The entire planetoid is probably crawling with Korblocks by now."

"I guess we'll just work it out as we go," Rick flatly responded. "Anything's better than staying here. Unless you have a better idea? Because right now it kinda sounds like you didn't even have one in the first place."

Ricktus was furious about the comment, but said nothing - there was no point.

"No objections, then? Good." Rick leaned against the door and started firing into the open space beyond the door. "If you idiots wanna keep your brains inside your heads, then shut the fuck up and get behind me."

Ricktus silently considered the command as he fumbled around in the dark to help the other Rick to his feet; it had sounded authoritative and confident – just like something Riq IV would say. Once the other Rick's weight was resting against him, he armed himself and followed Rick's lead.

After shooting his way across the room, Rick stood guard at the entrance to the nightclub while he waited for the others to catch up, though he found himself impatiently glaring while they lingered behind the bar. "Do you wanna die here!?" He shouted at them.

"I'm securing a portal gun, Rick..." Ricktus sighed at him as he crouched under the bar and broke the lock-box open to retrieve it. "That's always the secondary objective. Have you forgotten so soon?"

"I-I don't care!" Rick sputtered back at him in a fluster. "Hurry your asses up! Fuckin' run if you have to!"

"I don't really think that's-" Ricktus began.

The other Rick cut him off with an aggressive shove as he forced himself to stand on his own. "It doesn't matter where you run... they'll pursue you to the ends of the universe until they find you..."

"Not if you're in another dimension, stupid." Rick quickly reasoned. "All we need to do is escape the plasma-suppression field, and then we can portal the fuck outta here."

"I reckon you're a damn crazy fool if you try," the other Rick weakly staggered on his feet, seeming to be having difficulty standing. "But i-if you really think you can pull it off, I suppose I'll go with ya." He took a look around the room; the firefight had ended and all that remained were dead-and-dying aliens. His gaze lingered on the oval-shaped cage in the middle of the nightclub and he lowered his head when he discovered that his tentacled dancer was dead. "Aw shit, there really is nothin' here for me anymore..."

Ricktus couldn't believe what he was hearing - not only was Rick's idea completely outrageous, but somehow, the Rick they had come for was actually agreeing to it.

"You ain't gonna make it back the way you came in, though..." The Rick clumsily stumbled out the door and into the cavern system ahead. "They'll be expecting that. Use one of the other tunnels."

Rick silently shoved past him and led the way, his guns still raised and at the ready. As the caverns snaked off into the dark, his uneasiness increased. Soon enough, he was running his hands along the rock walls in complete darkness, leading only by feel and the desire to escape. When he heard the footsteps behind him getting further and further away, he turned back in the direction of the others and made his disapproval known with a loud, audible growl.

"What's the matter? Can't you idiots run?" The scientist took the opportunity to momentarily stop and rest; despite how fatigued he was feeling, he was still annoyed that they couldn't keep with his pace – he was meant to be the sick one.

"Well, no, actually..." Came the first reply, though it was difficult to tell who was speaking.

"Why not!?" Rick demanded and stared at the source of the voice even though it was pitch black all around them.

"Because I can't, OK!?" The reply defensively snapped back. "Just drop it and get us out of here!"

"Hah, you can't? Seriously?" The other Rick taunted him with a gruff laugh. "Sancheziminius sends a nobody and a hopeless limpy loser to come get me... my, he really sent his best, didn't he?"

"Oh, SHUT UP!"

Rick pushed off the wall and forced himself to continue moving forward; now it was easy to tell them apart. He silently navigated the way out the other side of the cavern system and slipped onto the street among a very-nervous crowd; they were on-edge because of the heavy Korblock presence that had moved in to swarm the whole planetoid. To make matters worse, the loud thrumming of engines could be heard as more Korblock ships arrived in the airspace overhead. As much as Rick wanted to quicken his pace, he couldn't; the two others were still languishing behind him

Rick retreated into a dimly-lit alleyway and heavily leaned against the wall as he placed a hand against his forehead. His head was fuzzy and blackness prickled the edge of his vision; it was more than apparent that he was pushing himself too hard. He barely heard the other Ricks catch up to him as he panted hard, doing his best to fight through it.

"Why did you stop here?" Ricktus growled at the scientist. "I guess I can see the appeal - stay in the shadows where they can't find us. But they're going to track us by our brainwaves regardless of what you do, and this one's stupid clothing makes him stick out like a sore thumb." He made a point of glaring at the other Rick's attire. "Who the hell chooses to wear that of their own free will?"

"It's fashionable, OK?" The other Rick grumbled defensively. "Fuck your sense of taste, man. You look like common gang trash in that getup!"

"Yes, that's how you blend in and survive..." Ricktus trailed off as he noticed Rick's posture and promptly stood in front of him. "Are you OK? You don't look well."

"I-I'm fine..." Rick covered for his weakness with a deep scowl. "J-just need to get out of here..."

"Yeah, well how do you plan on doing that?" The other Rick pressed him, his tone sarcastic and acrid. "Still ain't heard much outta you yet. You gonna start flapping your arms so we can fly away?"

Rick raised his head at the suggestion and went quiet as he watched the street beyond their hiding place; his first plan had been to disable the plasma suppression field generator, but he had no idea where it was, what it looked like, or even how to begin working out how to do so. Now he had a slightly less crazy idea as his gaze drifted towards one of the patrol ships that had just landed; if it was functioning normally, then it obviously didn't run on plasma-based technology.

If it could fly, then that was all that mattered.

"Y-yeah," the scientist nodded as he pushed through the fatigue and stepped back out onto the street. "That's actually a pretty fuckin' good idea." He took the desiccation gun out of his hoodie and started firing into the air to scatter the crowd. Just as the owners got out of the flying vehicle got out to turn on him, he dispatched them by dumping the entire clip straight into their massive gelatinous hides. After their dying gurgled screams had stopped, he moved ahead and began to clear the shriveled carcasses out of the vehicle.

"What the fuck are you thinking, Rick?! That was insane!" Ricktus angrily declared as he stomped onto the street, suddenly more interested in scolding the scientist over worrying about the rapidly deteriorating situation around them.

"Yeah it was, but... did we die?" Rick almost sounded smug as he threw the driver's door open. As much as he wanted to brag about how successful he'd just been, he knew that more members of the Korblock regime were likely coming. "We need to get outta here. Where's the other guy?"

Ricktus glanced back at the alleyway and sighed; the Rick they had come to retrieve was now curled up in a ball and cowering in the shadows. "I'll have to get him, I suppose."

Something had definitely come over the other Rick, because he behaved more like a rag-doll as he was dragged across the open ground by his good arm. By the time he was secure in the back seat of the vehicle, he became irrational and started screaming absolute nonsense; he'd completely lost it.

The doctor had to forcefully pin him down while Rick got the Korblok patrol vehicle ready for launch. Despite the fact that the controls were completely foreign to him, the scientist was still confident that he could operate it; he'd always been able to fly anything simply by learning on the go. Once the engines were powered up, the ship took off with a loud, mechanical whine of protest as Rick stabbed the throttle, forcing the vehicle to accelerate and escape the planetoid's pull of gravity.

Unfortunately for the escapees, the stolen vehicle was noticed by the other ships in the air and by the time it was in the upper atmosphere, there were already three of them in hot pursuit.

"You think we could hurry this up?!" Ricktus yelped as he practically had to sit on top of the other Rick, squashing him under his body weight to stop him from continuing his panicked flailing.

"I'm kinda busy up front here!" Rick growled back in response. "Can one of you work the lasers?"

"It doesn't matter where you go or what you do, they're gonna get us!" The Rick suddenly yelped in a crazed frenzy. "Escaping is useless! We're SO SCREWED!"

"You think it sounds like I can work the lasers back here?!" The doctor retorted. "Don't be a hero and fight back, just get us the fuck out of here!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." Rick grumbled. A singular glance at the rear-view mirror told him that the situation in the back seat was as bad as it sounded, and he impatiently stomped the throttle to the floor as he forced the ship to go faster, expertly weaving in and out of the pathways of enemy fire the whole time.

"What are you doing!? Don't touch that!"

"It doesn't even matter, we're all gonna die eventually!"

"It's not worth it! Give that back, NOW!"

"I-I wanna die, give it to me!"

It was difficult to watch the way ahead and the rear-view mirror at the same time, but Rick could see that the two others in the back seat were now involved in some kind of heated struggle. He could do very little but continue to steer as he watched the reflection of two combatants wrestle each other for control of a gun; somehow, the captive Rick had managed to grab one out of the doctor's pockets. Not even a second later, there was a loud discharge as the gun fired, but Rick didn't even need to know what had happened; he could see the blood spray across the back window of the getaway vehicle.

To his credit, he kept his focus on continuing to drive.

"Oh, fucking hell!" Ricktus howled, positively livid with rage. "You goddamn son of a bitch! Fucking moron!" He yanked his hoodie off and fervently ripped it apart to use as bandages and stanch the bleeding. "Is your portal gun working yet?! Because now we only have about a minute before this asshole bleeds out!"

Rick fumbled for the device, only to immediately regret doing so; it distracted him just long enough for one of the pursuing ships to land a shot in the rear of the vehicle, disabling the engine. A second shot punched through the back window, flew through the cabin space, and smashed out the windscreen again, somehow narrowly missing everyone inside. The glass windows buckled in protest to the difference of pressure between the cabin and the vacuum of space, and cracks began to form outwards from the bullet holes.

"Well, shit..." Rick mumbled, his attention on the growing fractures. "Do you know how to move around in zero gravity?"

"Yes, why?"

"Then I suggest you exhale." Rick's voice became quieter and more firm as he shuffled back in the driver's seat, resolving himself to the only viable idea he had left. He barely had time to place his feet on the windshield as another three shots struck the back of the ship, causing the entire chassis to shake violently. "Are you ready?"

"What the hell are you thinking, Rick!?" Ricktus's panicked voice bellowed back at him. "You're going to kill us all!"

"I-I'll try not to."

With a singular thump of his heels, the windscreen shattered and the contents of the vehicle were sucked into the vacuum of space. Rick was thrown out of the front window like a piece of garbage and into the nothingness beyond, but he already had his portal gun at the ready and fired into the empty space in front of his trajectory.

By the time all three Ricks had tumbled through the portal, the getaway vehicle was on fire and exploded shortly afterwards.

The Korblocks would not get what they wanted today or any other.

* * *

Back on the other side, all three Ricks were unceremoniously dumped onto the ground just beyond the portal hub.

Ricktus made sharp, gasping noises as he reoxygenated his lungs. Being exposed to the vacuum of space for less than ten seconds had been incredibly uncomfortable on his bodily processes, but his mind was reeling from what had just happened; Rick's actions were nothing short of insane, yet somehow because of him, they had all managed to survive and were safe back on his ship.

He actually had to check himself over again to make sure that he was still alive.

Meanwhile, Rick lay where he had fallen; he had already been weakened to begin with, but combined with the lack of oxygen and no food in his stomach, he didn't have the strength to move anymore. "Y-you didn't exhale... I distinctly remember telling you to do that."

"You goddamn crazy fool!" Ricktus finally managed to choke the words out as he scrambled to his feet, though he didn't know which Rick needed to be dealt with more urgently. "NONE of us were in control of that situation! We only survived because of your sheer dumb luck!"

"G-good enough..." A soft, dry chuckle escaped him as he gave in to the blackness closing in all around him.

"Damn it, not now!" The last thing Rick heard was the angry voice hovering directly overhead. "I need help over here, you worthless insects!"

Then it was all gone.

* * *

When Rick finally came to again, there was a warm, prickling sensation in his right arm, and he opened his eyes to a high, white ceiling; he was back in the medi-bay box once again. As he lay flat on his back, his first observations were that the clothes from his upper body were missing, an IV line was firmly placed in the crook of his arm, and an oxygen mask was uncomfortably pinching the bridge of his nose.

At least he wasn't naked this time.

"F-fuck..." He weakly groaned. When he tried to pry the mask off his face, he was rewarded with a sharp slap across the wrist.

"Nope. You REALLY need that, bro. Trust me."

Rick glared up at his assailant, though he knew there was no point; everything was being done in his best interests, so he had no other choice but to lie there and put up with it until he was feeling better.

"Welcome back, douchebag." Surgeon Rick stood over him with a firm look of disapproval all over his face. "You wanna tell me why I had to limp outta the peace and quiet of my room to come save your sorry ass yet again? What the hell were you thinking?"

Rick attempted to placate him by telling him what he wanted to hear. "I-I wasn't..."

"You got that right!" Surgeon Rick seemed charged up and angry, like he was ready to deliver another lecture. "While I'm glad you thought you were well enough to go parading around the multiverse on another fun adventure, I have the biggest fuckin' 'I told you so' right now!"

Rick covered his eyes with his free hand and made a loud sigh; he didn't want to hear any of it.

"You're lucky you found your way back here at all to be perfectly honest with you." Surgeon Rick turned his back to him. "So... how about that second opinion?"


	23. Last Will and Ricktament

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is fanfiction and unlicensed/unofficial material.

 **NOTE:** This one made my brain stumble more than a few times, but it's finally complete! Some of the plot content was suggested/requested by my beta-reader, Sillycritter :)

* * *

 **Chapter 23 –** **Last Will and Ricktament** **  
** **  
** **December 1st, 11:10am, Local Ship Time, 2001**  
 **Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316**

* * *

As much as Rick didn't want to admit it, the resonating hum of medical equipment in the small room around him was reassuring, even somewhat soothing to listen to. As much as he wanted to get up and move, he didn't; Surgeon Rick was still hovering by his bedside, impatiently waiting for some kind of answer.

"Well?"

Rick didn't say anything initially; although he'd only been breathing the oxygen for a short time, it was definitely bringing him back to his senses. He wasn't sure how to answer because he hadn't invested much thought in it, so he asked the only thing he was actually interested in knowing. "Where's Morty...?"

Surgeon Rick pointed towards the closed door. "Hangin' out in the hallway, just outside. Couldn't really bring him in because his dumb crib wouldn't fit, and he'd just distract you anyway." He paused momentarily. "If that's all you're worried about then it sounds like your answer is already a 'yes', huh?"

"I-I guess..." Rick replied with a slight irritated huff. "Just... don't drag it out and torture me."

"Nah man, not how I roll." Surgeon Rick replied as he painfully hobbled across the room. "I'm gonna outsource and consult a third party so I don't get accused of hijacking the whole thing. Plus if it's done on the quiet and somewhere else, it's as if it never happened at all, right?"

"You're... you're gonna, uh... do the thing behind the other guy's back? That doesn't really seem like..." He wanted to say more but couldn't focus long enough to finish the sentence; complete coherence still eluded him.

Surgeon Rick gritted his teeth, needing a moment to contain himself. "You know it's a bad thing when I'M the one trying to reason through stuff, right? He's completely lost it! He doesn't listen to me and he's too proud to admit he's wrong," he slammed a hand down on the small table at the far end of the room. "You can't play around with people like that! I'm just trying to minimize the possibility of him making yet another giant mistake. He's not gonna see it that way, but..." He trailed off. "Fuck it, it's your call. What do you want me to do?"

"Just do what you gotta," Rick answered finally, "I-I don't wanna be here."

"We're in total agreement there, bro." A calm came over the surgeon as his mind switched into clinical mode. "The kind of biopsies I wanna collect are invasive and painful, but if I get them off now to the lab boys at the Citadel, I can get you back somewhere towards normal." He moved away from the table and stood at Rick's bedside once again. "With your consent, I wanna drill a couple of holes in you and collect bone marrow, just to shut the boss up on his plasma radiation poisoning thing-"

"So y-you... you don't think that's what it is either." Rick talked over the top of him. "What's your guess?"

"Dude," Surgeon Rick wearily sat down on the edge of the bed and poked him in the arm. "I'm just a general surgeon. I don't even have a specialty... I wanted to work towards getting one, but life got in the way. Point is, I'm not really qualified to go making diagnoses like this. That's kinda the other reason I'm outsourcing. Someone's gotta do it properly, y'know?"

Rick slowly nodded his head and closed his eyes; despite feeling better, he was still overwhelmingly tired. "Why are you doing this...? You don't have to..."

"Lots of reasons," Surgeon Rick took a quick look around the room; although he had disabled all the cameras and recording equipment earlier, he still wanted to double check that everything was off before speaking again. "Maybe because, like you, I see a problem and wanna correct it because it's bullshit? Maybe I wanna see you live. Hell, maybe it makes me feel useful and like I'm actually worth something." He shrugged. "Maybe it's because I like you. Pick one of those."

"You like me, so... s-so you're gonna drill holes in me." Rick dryly mused. "Will it hurt?"

"Nah," Surgeon Rick casually replied. "Because it's an invasive procedure, I'm gonna gas you and let you sleep through it." He hunched forwards and glared down at his throbbing ankle; he very much could have done with some of the gas for himself. "You're gonna feel absolutely amazing when you wake up again, but it's only gonna be temporary so take it easy. Hang around the ship, go to the electronics lab and build shit, I dunno. Hell... go watch the TV in my room for all I care. Just no more crazy hijinks, OK? You might not be so lucky next time."

Rick didn't answer; all he wanted to do was sleep.

"So that's how it's gonna be, huh? Fine." Surgeon Rick moved off the bed again and limped over to the wall to adjust the gas ratios in the oxygen distribution hose. "I know I can't stop you, but I can sure as hell give you the judgy face when you do dumb shit. But that doesn't matter right now, because all I want you to do is breathe. Breathe deep and exhale. And don't feel bad about enjoying it, because it's REALLY good shit."

"Wh... w-what is it...?" Rick forced out the question through the cloudy haze that was already enveloping him, though this time it was mixed overwhelming calm and euphoria; whatever the gas was, it sure was quick and effective.

"Methoxyflurane," Surgeon Rick replied with a broad smirk. "And don't worry, this time I'm actually using it for its intended purpose." He turned the gas up higher. "How you doin' down there, bro?"

Rick could only manage a content hum in reply; he was already more than halfway gone. With the presence of a friend nearby combined with the fact that he was already tired, he found it easy to slip under the effects of the gas and fall asleep entirely.

Surgeon Rick grinned to himself after he was satisfied that Rick was finally out to it. "Hah, gets 'em every time." He limped away to begin the procedure ahead.

* * *

As Ricktus tried to relax in the recliner chair he kept in his personal quarters, he consoled himself with a bottle of wine as he reflected on the events in the nightclub. An unbearable sense of guilt and failure washed over him as the memories replayed in his head; what was meant to be a relatively straightforward retrieval mission had ended in complete disaster and it just reminded him of how woefully unprepared and vulnerable he could be. He was also a spineless coward and useless; in the face of adversity he had frozen like a deer in headlights.

Although he'd always been the type to plan things ahead, he had failed to come up with anything at all when his initial ideas came apart around him. Rick was right; he didn't have a backup plan and if not for the scientist's leadership and forward thinking actions, both of them and their retrieval would probably be dead, or worse - captives in some stupid breeding program in a dimension that he didn't even have anything to do with until he'd set foot in it mere hours ago.

One of the worker bees Ricktus had hand-chosen from the hive tried to soothe him by grooming him, but he would not be cheered up by such a gesture; he was too consumed by his own thoughts taunting him with mental scenarios of different outcomes. Self-doubt and loathing clouded his mind, reaffirming the thought that he had failed at everything he had ever tried.

Rick B-526 himself was a total enigma to him; despite the fact that he had nothing to gain out of assisting him on his retrieval mission, he had willingly come along anyway. Despite his abrasive personality and erratic nature, almost everything he did seemed to be for the benefit of others around him, even if it did not benefit him personally. That in itself frustrated the doctor – he simply could not comprehend how a Rick could simultaneously be an asshole, outwardly appearing to care little for anything than other than himself, and yet somehow still be altruistic and selfless at the same time.

"God, he's so much better than me..." Ricktus scolded himself through clenched teeth. "No wonder why the damn Council wants him so badly..."

Already guilt was creeping back in; Rick was currently incapacitated as a direct result of his actions. His assistant had been right - it was irresponsible to have asked such a thing of him; he was supposed to be under his watch so he could track symptoms and make him well again, but this was the exact opposite of that.

It was downright negligent.

To make matters worse, the Rick he had been asked to retrieve wasn't faring much better; he'd shot himself in the neck during the escape in a failed attempt to commit suicide. Although Ricktus had successfully managed to keep him alive, he'd been forced to send him off to the Citadel infirmary almost as soon as they'd returned to the ship – his injuries were just far too great for him to deal with on his own.

Sancheziminius was going to be pissed about his Rick being delivered in less than desirable condition.

There was little the doctor could do to ease his mind except rise to his feet and take off in the direction of his assistant's personal quarters; he really needed to talk to him. Even once he was in the corridor of the barracks, he was reluctant; despite ordering Surgeon Rick to keep off his feet, he'd still needed him to pick up after his mistake. He was reminded of how indispensable he really was to him, yet he treated him like absolute garbage.

As his closed fist hovered over the door, he hesitated – he fully expected to be yelled at. At least it would be justified this time; he deserved it.

* * *

After collecting the biopsies he needed, Surgeon Rick portaled them off to his old workplace. He patched up his patient again, then hooked up his IV line with blood products and saline to rehydrate him. Because he knew the infusion process would take hours, he left a short handwritten note and slipped out of the medi-bay room, leaving him to recover.

There was a very cranky Morty impatiently waiting for him on the floor in the hallway. He'd managed to climb over the side of his crib in his boredom, but the unfamiliarity of the surrounding area had compelled him to stay nearby. The moment he saw the tall spiky haired figure, he let out an almighty scream to voice his unhappiness at being left alone for so long. Even though this person was not his favorite, he was still close enough for him to be completely fine with demanding his immediate attention.

"Whoa, hey there, little guy. How'd you manage that?" Surgeon Rick frowned as he reached down to scoop him up. "Holy shit, kid. You're being loud enough to rupture my eardrums... can you turn it down a few notches?" The frown grew further across his face. "I'd let you go in there and see your Rick, but you're probably stupid enough to rip out his IV lines. Let's go do something else, huh?"

"N-no!" Morty stuttered back at him in a loud high-pitched voice; he'd decided that it was currently his favorite word.

"You're just being a punk now, aren't ya?" Surgeon Rick held him in one arm and wheeled the crib back down the corridor with the other, painfully limping the entire way. "You were being so awesome before, a couple more hours isn't going to hurt you. You wanna watch TV or play in the ball pit or some shit?"

"N-noo!" Morty yelled more definitively this time.

"No, as in you don't wanna watch TV, or no, you don't wanna play in the ball pit?"

"N-NO!"

Surgeon Rick didn't know whether to laugh or be frustrated; Morty certainly had the word down, but with such limited vocabulary he couldn't quite work out how it was being applied. He gave up and let the little boy cry it out the whole way back to his personal quarters, figuring he'd be distracted by something else by the time they got there.

He was right; once they were back in the room, Morty was far more interested in trying to knock over the tower of blocks they'd built before he'd been called away to deal with the emergency situation at the portal hub.

The surgeon gratefully sank down on his couch and rested his injured ankle up on the coffee table while he watched Morty go on his destructive rampage with a vague pang of sadness; he'd now spent more time with this one to have known him better than his own grandson. He tried not to let the thoughts of his own family back in dimension C-711 bother him as he turned on the TV and watched the little boy out of the corner of his eye.

Morty was quite happy to play quietly for a while, but when the blocks became projectiles across the pathway of the TV screen, Surgeon Rick decided to put a stop to it.

"Yo, little guy. Don't do that, OK? You're gonna break something." Although it had been a long time since he had used the firm parental tone, it still seemed to work; he observed Morty immediately stop what he was doing and he was satisfied. "Hah, still got it," he patted the space next to him on the couch. "Why don't you come over here instead?"

Morty clambered to his feet in an excited hurry. In three rushed steps, he reached the coffee table and went down again, banging his head on the corner as he and landed on the floor in a heap. The loud wail that followed was predictable, though he was more upset about the abrupt shock than anything else.

"Aw, shit! NO!" Surgeon Rick forced himself off the couch again and moved over to tend to the issue. As he held the screaming youngster in his arms and examined him, he felt awful; he was supposed to be watching him and had already failed at it. He hobbled across the room for his first-aid kit and set Morty down on the bunk bed to deal with the outstanding injury; although it was just a small scratch and easily patched up, he guessed that Rick would be absolutely pissed about it if his reaction to the microchipping process was anything to judge by.

Morty quietened down again relatively quickly; simply being held and the attention was enough for him. Once the band-aid was applied to his forehead, he didn't even seem to notice and the incident was forgotten as he stared up at the spiky haired figure still standing over him, demanding to be picked up again.

"Don't friggin' do that again!" Surgeon Rick sighed as he complied with the request and slowly made his way back to the couch. "Kid, you're gonna get me in so much trouble... how the hell am I gonna explain this one?" He ran two fingers over the band-aid to make sure it was stuck down properly, though it was more to mentally reassure himself that it wasn't that bad. "Your Rick is gonna be so pissed..."

Morty didn't understand the words and was confused by his tone; he didn't know what the big deal was. He hauled himself onto his feet again and poked the surgeon in the arm as he rambled off a string of nonsense at him.

"Yeah... I know, but," Surgeon Rick shook his head, "I'm not gonna let it go. I just got in good standing with your Rick. You can try telling him what you just said if you want, but it's probably not gonna work." He lowered his head and placed a hand on his forehead. "Fuck... I'm gonna be in so much trouble..."

He sat up again when he heard the loud knocking on his door.

"Ugh, one sec!" Surgeon Rick called out as he rose to his feet again. "You," he pointed sharply at Morty. "Stay there." He awkwardly walked across the floor to the doorway. After opening it, he was met with the sight of a very subdued Ricktus, and his scowl deepened as much as he could make it; he really didn't want to see him right now. "The hell do YOU want? I'm not on the clock, so go away." He jabbed a finger on the button to close the door again.

"Can we talk?" Ricktus said hurriedly. His hand hovered over the override key and he mashed it as soon as the door started closing again; he had been anticipating that move. "As in, actually talk for once?"

Surgeon Rick's expression softened ever so slightly. "I-I guess...? Come in, because I don't wanna stand around any longer than I have to." He turned around and headed back towards the couch.

"How are you doing?" The doctor frowned when he realized just how injured his assistant still was; then again, he hadn't really had a chance to rest up. "Are you putting ice on it every couple of hours like you're supposed to?"

"Is that why you're here?" Surgeon Rick flopped back down on the couch next to Morty. "To give me a lecture? Can't you just post it online for me to read later?"

"Actually, I came to ask you how B-526 is doing..." Ricktus sat down on the other edge of the couch as he tried to conceal his true feelings with a mask of stoicism, though the concern in his voice was already obvious. "I made you deal with it as I had bigger problems."

"He's resting up in the medi-bay," Surgeon Rick answered truthfully, "I hooked him up with two units of red cells and oxygen therapy. He should be bouncing off the walls in about four hours from now. I can also set him up with anti-nausea medication if you want. None of that stuff is gonna interfere with your data."

Ricktus raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Why did you do that?"

"Go have a look at the numbers from the last batch of bloodwork you did... his red cell count was shittier than the one before it." Surgeon Rick replied simply. "I don't know what you're looking for at this point, but you're not gonna get some cool discovery or a new thing here. He was only asymptomatic before because you kinda did that yourself." The scowl returned to his face as he fixed his gaze on the TV. "If you don't step up and do something soon, he's gonna die. You think the big boss is gonna look kindly on you killing not just a Rick, but the one he wanted specifically?"

The doctor sat patiently through his assistant's frustrations; as much as he wanted to interject, he didn't particularly want to make him angrier. "I'll give him another 72 hours... I need more time to sit down in front of the data and think."

Surgeon Rick turned his glare back on his boss. "I hope you're not saying that just because I bought you the time. Don't be an idiot about it."

Ricktus sighed at him. "Do you need some vacation time after this is over? You need rest, and you've gotten yourself far too involved in this one. It would do you some good to take a step back and think about something else for a while."

"It would do you some good to stop being such a high and mighty condescending asshole!" Surgeon Rick retorted. "I'm not 'too involved', fuck you! That Rick is my bro now, a-and he would be cool with you too if you'd just get over yourself!"

"He's your bro," Ricktus repeated the words as he tried to make sense of them. "Are you going to be BFFs after this is over? Wake up to yourself, C-711... if he doesn't die here, he's likely to kill himself anyway over his own stupidity, or he's going to abandon you once he's done with us. He's only going to hurt you."

"Yeah, just like the other Ricks I've made friends with, huh?" Surgeon Rick spat the words out bitterly. "You know what you can do? Get the fuck out!"

"If that's what you want," Ricktus quietly replied. "But I actually came in here to apologize."

Surgeon Rick's hostility evaporated. "For what?"

"For being a dick. For not listening to you," Ricktus shrugged, "I-I don't know, help me out here... I'm not good with this. I prefer doing things rather than talking about them." He awkwardly glanced at the door and ran a hand through his hair; getting out felt like a pretty good idea now. "I'm sure you can probably understand how much of hard-ass Riq IV is... and the burden of responsibility he's placed on my shoulders. But that's not your problem, it's mine. And you were right, it's... it's getting to me." He finally admitted. "I do need a vacation."

Surgeon Rick was quiet; this was the most sincere conversation he'd gotten out of him in a long time. After another moment of silence, he picked up the remote and tossed it into his lap. "You wanna watch TV? Unprofessional wrestling is coming up in about twenty minutes. It's a repeat, but it's still pretty funny when the loser gets it in the face."

Ricktus slowly nodded in response but did not change the channel; although the gesture was small, it was still an invitation to stay and it was all he needed.

* * *

Rick needed some time to work out where he was when he woke up initially. He stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above and sat up in a hurry, taking in his surroundings as it all flooded back to him; the pickup mission, the incident in the hallway, and then the events that followed it. When he lowered his head to rub his eyes, there was a sharp snag in his right arm and he realized he was still hooked up to the IV tube.

He studied it for a moment and then pried the tape off, carefully pulling the rest of it out afterwards. When he found the note waiting for him on the table next to the bed, he picked it up to read.

 _"Hey,_  
 _Whenever you're ready, come find me and get your Morty back. All the shit you were carrying is back in your room. If you get asked about what happened here, don't talk about it or you're gonna screw everything up and get us both in trouble._ _Finally, do me a huge solid and physically destroy this piece of paper._

 _Notes are stupid, yo,_  
 _\- Rick (the cool one)"_

After tearing the note up, Rick discarded the pieces and headed back to the barracks area of the ship. Once in his room, he changed into something more typical of his style and was at Surgeon Rick's door again, though he didn't bother to knock this time and simply let himself in.

Surgeon Rick was the first one to notice the new arrival, but did not move from his spot on the couch. "Oh hey, there you are! Glad to see you're finally up again." He flashed him his best friendly grin. "So how'd it work out? How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Rick replied. For once it wasn't a lie; he didn't feel dizzy or lethargic at all, and even slightly hungry. His attention drifted towards the other occupants on the couch – first to Morty, who hadn't noticed him yet, and then to Ricktus. He couldn't work out why he was there; he had no idea how much time had passed or what had happened in his absence, but if he was willingly sitting there outside of work, then he was obviously being tolerated or had been invited to stay.

"Yo," Surgeon Rick spoke up again, breaking the silence. "The fuck are you still standing there for? Sit down and join us, idiot."

"What's he doing here?" Rick grunted in the direction of the doctor; while he didn't care that much, him being there was going to make certain conversations difficult.

"Watching TV." Ricktus replied simply.

Rick's irritation spiked in an instant; it was a dumb question that deserved a dumb obvious answer. He made an annoyed grunt as he sat down in the space between them and next to Morty. "Hey, kiddo. Did you miss me?" As he spoke the words, he gently nudged the little boy in the arm.

Morty turned to look up, then gave a loud happy squeal as he recognized him and launched himself into his grandfather's lap. Once settled, he clung onto his shirt with both hands, determined not to let go.

Rick couldn't help but grin and his bad mood dissipated again. As he ruffled up the little boy's hair, he noticed the band-aid on his forehead. "Hey, what happened to you?"

"Shit, that's my fault," Surgeon Rick wasted no time answering. "I'm really sorry, bro... it was an accident. He tripped and I couldn't get to him in time. It's not bad, but-"

Rick dismissed it with a small wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it."

Surgeon Rick stared at him, wide eyed. "You're not mad?"

"Phh... why would I be? Kids are stupid. It's not like you went out of your way to beat him up," Rick narrowed his eyes mockingly. "Or did you?"

"Holy shit," Surgeon Rick sputtered the words out in a hurry. "N-no way, dude!"

"Chill, I'm just fucking with you." Rick was smirking now. "You got five minutes to talk in the hallway?"

Ricktus had been quietly sitting and listening to the conversation, not wanting to disrupt them or take part in it. However, the question was enough to make him speak up. "You still need to rest that ankle, C-711. You've barely had any time to stay off it."

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Surgeon Rick bitterly retorted.

Ricktus didn't reply; it reminded him of how fragile the peace offering really was. Instead of making him move, he got to his feet and left the room himself.

"Ah, shit! Wait up, bro, I-I didn't mean it like that," Surgeon Rick was immediately sorry for the comment, but the door closed again before he could finish. "Damn it..."

Rick shrugged nonchalantly. "Why does it matter?"

"He was actually being cool, y'know?" The reply was etched with regret. "I got more than five words out of him for once..."

"You're trying to salvage a friendship you didn't break in the first place?" Rick snorted derisively. "Fuck it, that's not even your job."

Surgeon Rick sighed heavily; he wanted to talk and unload the issues on his mind, but he also didn't particularly want to be criticized and changed the subject instead. "What did you wanna ask me?"

"Did you get the plasma core yet?" Rick decided to get straight into it. "I'm gonna take off with Morty as soon as I can."

"Dude..." Surgeon Rick could have flattened him; he couldn't believe he was already thinking about leaving when he had been completely out of it mere hours ago. "Are you actively trying to hurt yourself? I told you to take it easy!"

"Relax," Rick tried to reassure him, "I'm only going back to Bird World to sort out a backup plan. I'm not gonna be running around on some... crazy adrenaline fueled adventure. I have friends there I gotta talk to, nothing bad's gonna happen."

"Backup plan?" Surgeon Rick was curious now. "What do you need a plasma core for?"

"Ugh," the annoyed feeling was returning; Rick did not want to explain it. "There's a war brewing back in my dimension and I gotta take care of some stuff. It's for my own peace of mind, y'know? We're just gonna sit down and talk."

The answer did not lessen the surgeon's curiosity. "What about?"

"You're annoying," Rick bluntly told him. "If I told that it's none of your business, would you still be a pain in my ass?"

"You kinda made it my business," Surgeon Rick countered. "You think I wanna portal to wherever you pass out again and save your ass for what... is it the third or the fourth time now?"

"Ugh, whatever." Rick grumbled. "If you're not gonna back off, you might as well come with." He became quiet as the gears of thought turned over in his head. "You'd actually be useful in helping me enact it if it comes to."

"Enact what?" Surgeon Rick narrowed his eyes; now he was confused as well. "What the hell are you thinking, brother? Talk to me."

"You said if I ever needed anything done, you'd do it, no questions asked? Well, you'd be doing me a real solid if you come with and agree to what I'm gonna explain to the rest of them." Rick carefully picked Morty up and got to his feet. "All you'd have to do is sit there, shut up and listen."

"Oh... OK?" The surgeon didn't know if he wanted to agree or not; part of him wanted to press him for more details, but he figured he'd get them anyway if he was patient enough.

"Good," Rick accepted the answer and headed for the door. "Get me that plasma core and meet me in my room when you're ready. I'll gather what shit I need in the meantime, and then we'll get the hell outta here."

Surgeon Rick nodded in reluctant agreement. "You're just sitting there and talking, right?"

Rick stopped in the open doorway. "Mostly. There may be some yelling involved too, I'm not sure how they'll react. Oh, and where we're going is tropical and humid, it's gross. You'll wanna dress for it."

"Wait... who's they?" Surgeon Rick asked, but his only answer was silence as he was left alone in the room.

* * *

The scientist impatiently waited in his room for the other version of himself to deliver on the goods while he gathered everything he had built and needed for the trip back to Bird World. By the time the surgeon had hobbled into the room, Rick was laying down on his bunk bed and allowed himself to drift into deep thought. What he was planning was only a last resort, but it was the best idea he had for the time being.

If the inhabitants of Bird World were going to involve themselves in the Galactic Federation's hostilities again, then they were likely to be vulnerable to the same kind of attack that had rendered planet Earth completely lifeless. While he didn't care much for the majority of Bird World's population, Birdperson was a different story; he'd had already lost his family to the Federation and would be devastated if he lost his best friend too.

He didn't even notice the other version of himself standing over him at the side of the bunk bed.

"Hey loser, are you alive in there?" Surgeon Rick half-teased, half-grumped. When he didn't get a response, he sharply jabbed him in the shoulder with a finger. "Yo!"

Rick jumped slightly and turned to glare up at him. "Y-yeah, yeah... go away." He swatted a hand out to shove him aside and stood up. "You got it?"

"Uh-huh," Surgeon Rick nodded as he took out the plasma core to show off. "You gonna fill me in yet?"

"I told you to relax," Rick rolled his eyes picked up his portal gun from its place on the table in the middle of the room along with the bag he had packed for the journey ahead. "It's much easier to explain it once to everyone at the same time." After recalling the co-ordinates to the front door of Birdperson's tree house in his native dimension, he fired it at the space in front of him.

Surgeon Rick couldn't help himself and blurted out the next question on his mind. "Are you gonna blow the core up?"

"Phh, no. I'm gonna put it in this," the scientist gathered up the parts of the near-complete secondary portal gun he had been working on, along with the smaller device and everything else he needed and stuffed them into the bag.

"Wait, you made another portal gun? What for?" Surgeon Rick stared at him incredulously; he knew he should keep nagging Rick to take it easy and didn't know why he was so willingly going along with it. Then again, he'd been talked into worse things with less information beforehand.

"Ugh, stop bugging me!" Rick snapped back; he was on the verge of losing his temper by now. "Wait until we're on the other side. I hate repeating myself!" He moved back across to the bunk bed where Morty was lounging on top of the covers and hauled him up under one arm so he could carry him off. "Come on, buddy. We're leaving."

While Morty hadn't wanted to be moved, he didn't care much about what was happening to him either. When he approached the swirling green vortex this time, he reached out with both hands towards it, admiring the pretty colors; it had finally stopped being scary.

* * *

 **December 1st, 6:20am, Local Time, 2001  
Birdperson's Tree House  
Bird World, Dimension B-526**

* * *

The morning air was crisp and cool on Bird World; a rainstorm had recently passed through the area and had drawn the humidity and latent heat out of the air from the night before.

Surgeon Rick immediately surveyed his surroundings. He hadn't taken part in Rick's abduction so he'd never actually been there before; he'd only learned about it through reading his boss's reports and capture plan. When Rick moved in through the front door, he hurriedly limped after him, not wanting to be left alone outside in case the local inhabitants were hostile.

Birdperson's lounge room was devoid of the shipping crates from the last visit and looked as it had always been, save for the fact that Squanchy had moved in some of his own furniture during his time away.

Rick set Morty and his bag down next to what looked suspiciously like some kind of scratching post; it was too short to be of Bird World origin. "You can sit down and take a load off if you want," he suggested as he glared at all the differences that now existed in the room. "There won't be much to do until they're all awake."

Surgeon Rick flopped down onto the couch with a relieved sigh; he was still hurting and hadn't even thought to bring painkillers with him. "Well, thank fuck for that..."

They didn't have long to wait; not even ten seconds later, Squanchy came in through the front door carrying a small lizard he had killed for breakfast. His first reaction was a joyful cheer as he saw Rick and he opened his mouth to say something, only to make a dumb sound as his gaze drifted across to the second one. As he backed up towards the door, the sound was escalated to a loud yowl.

"Squanchin' hell, Sanchez!" The feline yelped in surprise. "Nice of you to come back without saying anything, but now there's TWO of you?! Did you clone yourself?"

"Wait, you left without saying goodbye? And you didn't explain the multiverse to him?" Surgeon Rick gave his dimensional counterpart an apprehensive sideways glance. "This is supposed to be a friend, right?"

"Let's not get carried away there." Rick grumbled in reply. He took two steps towards the short feline creature and raised a hand up in the attempt to stop him. "Chill, Squanchy. This is, uh..." He went quiet as he pondered how best to explain.

Squanchy wasn't listening. He dropped the lizard he was carrying and sprang across the floor as he called out to Birdperson, practically yelling by the time he was in the hallway. "Hey BP, wake the squanch up! You gotta come see this shit!" He disappeared into the main bedroom of the tree house.

Rick rubbed his temples and made a loud frustrated groan. "Well, that's one way to start the day..."

Two minutes later, Birdperson was standing over the back of the couch and staring down at the newcomer with a vague expression that almost resembled anger. The feathers on his neck were ruffled and his posture was poised and ready to strike. "Rick," he stated, his voice as monotone as it had ever been, "I will pin this one down while he is distracted so you can run. If you need to-"

"H-hey!" Surgeon Rick loudly protested. "The fuck you gonna do that for?! What did I ever do to you?"

"Back off, BP!" Rick sharply commanded. "You're not gonna do anything, he's with me."

Birdperson relaxed slightly, but did not move from his position. "This appears to be a parallel version of yourself, Rick. Is this the one that abducted you and shot me out of the sky?"

"That wasn't me, yo!" Surgeon Rick shrank in his posture, not liking the fact that the larger male was still looming over him. "That was my boss, I'm just the guy who follows orders. It wouldn't even be a fair fight if you kick my ass, I-I'm kinda injured down here. Come on!"

"Yeah, it really wouldn't," Rick tried again. "Relax, BP, he's cool. I actually brought him here so I could go over some shit with you all. Y'know, get you on the same page and all that." He lightly shrugged his shoulders. "So the Squanches are still here, huh? Are they gonna be around for much longer, o-or what? What's going on there? What are the Feds doing now?"

Birdperson ignored his queries as he moved to stand in front of the couch. His expression returned to its typical neutrality as he stared down at the surgeon. "You are injured? Where?"

Surgeon Rick closely tracked the feathery male's every movement, not at all certain if he could trust him or not. "I was running after a... uh, a guy. I tripped over and got my foot stuck in a grate." He indicated to his right ankle with a pointed finger, not willing to move it unless necessary. "So like, you're an actual bird person? Shit, you even have the wings and feathers and everything. I didn't realize Rick was being so... literal. That can't possibly be your actual name, bro."

"I am not your brother and we are hardly related." Birdperson calmly told him. "But yes, my first name is," the sentence erupted into a short song of screeches and chirrups. "And my surname is," he ended it a long resonate whistle. "If you find this unpronounceable as Rick does, then 'Birdperson' is acceptable."

"Uh..." Surgeon Rick scratched the back of his head. "I dunno, feels kinda disrespectful, dude. That would kinda be like calling me 'spiky haired douchebag'."

"I find the name to be perfectly agreeable." Birdperson appeared content with his long-term title. "Do you have an alternative name, seeing as though you are also a Rick?"

Squanchy stepped forward, his tail-puff bristled in agitation. "Hold it, guys! I still don't get it," he stood next to Birdperson and bared his pointy teeth at the newcomer. "So if you're not a clone, you're like, Rick's long lost brother or some squanch? How do we even know if you're legit?" He growled up at Birdperson. "I say we tie him up now and interrogate him!"

"For what? What did I do to you, other than look like your best friend and exist?" Surgeon Rick scowled. "If this is how you're gonna roll, I'm outta here. Screw this!" He painfully hauled himself onto his feet.

"Hey, wait up!" Rick spoke up, his irritation rising. "Look, can't you just both trust me on this one? Use your damn brains. Do you think I would have brought him here if I thought he was dangerous? Leave him alone, OK? He's cool with me."

Birdperson silently nodded in respectful acceptance; if Rick was fine with it, then it was enough for him. Meanwhile, Squanchy still seemed apprehensive and skulked off into the kitchen.

Surgeon Rick sank back down on the couch again, a sudden wide grin on his face. "Oh man, you think I'm cool?"

"Phh, don't let it get to your head." Rick grumpily told him as he began to idly pace across the floor, pondering how to go through the next steps ahead. "Birdperson, go get your neighbor. What I need to say to you all is pretty damn important and I'd like her to be there. I need you all to shut up and listen, I-I..." His voice became quiet and serious. "This is gonna be hard for me, so I'll need your help."

"Rick, what is happening?" Birdperson's left eyebrow raised ever so slightly in inquisition. "Are you still unwell?" He stepped forward to give the space in front of the scientist a delicate sniff.

Rick glared hard at him and backed away. "S-stop that! Just go get your neighbor, OK? Is that so much to ask?" He paused in thought. "Wait, is it too early? What time is it?"

"While the sun is still in the process of rising, I am more than certain that she will be willing to do whatever you wish, including coming here at any hour of the day." Birdperson calmly explained as he headed for the door. "I shall deal with your injured parallel version upon my return."

Surgeon Rick watched him go with a heavy frown on his face. "Great... what's he gonna do to me? I don't need someone else doting over me like I'm a cripple."

"Let him look at you," Rick grumpily instructed him. "It's a cultural thing for them to nurture and tend to the injured members of their flock. It's also a survival thing... if you can't fly, you can't eat." He paused momentarily. "And yeah, before you mention it, I know we can't fly. It's more the principle and the thought that counts."

Surgeon Rick slowly shook his head. "Less than five minutes ago he was gonna beat me up... now he wants to help me? Tell him to make up his mind."

"I can't make him do anything he doesn't want to," Rick sank down next to him on the couch and lowered his head. "That's the problem."

Surgeon Rick raised an eyebrow, confused all over again. "Huh? What the hell are you even going on about?"

Rick did not answer.

Within the next five minutes, Birdperson returned to the tree house with Gresharak in tow. Although she had been warned been about the situation prior to coming inside, it still didn't stop her from openly staring at the two near-identical humans on the couch.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Surgeon Rick was the first one to speak. "Are you gonna kick my ass too?"

"Do not mind me," Gresharak promptly apologized for herself, having realized that staring might be thought of as rude. "It is just that you look like siblings from the same clutch."

"Oh geez, you didn't explain the multiverse to her either?" Surgeon Rick lightly thumped Rick in the side with his elbow. "What kinda friend are you?"

Rick let out a weary sigh. "I-it's gonna be a long day..."

"OK, listen the fuck up because I'm only gonna explain this once," Surgeon Rick loudly declared, "I'm not a sibling or a clone. I like to think of these guys as my brothers and from a genetic standpoint we're identical, but... there's actually more to it than that. Up to a certain point, this guy and I were the same. Then I made my own decision and broke away, and that's the multiverse for ya. Any questions?"

"You are the same person?" Gresharak seemed incredibly confused.

"I'm the same person with a different set of experiences." Surgeon Rick casually stated as if it were simple fact. "Which means I'm not the same person at all. Forget 'brother from another mother', it's more like 'brother from another place in time and space'."

Gresharak did not look any less puzzled.

Surgeon Rick was about to add more to his statement, at least until the only dominating factor of his awareness was near-blinding pain; Birdperson had seated himself down on the floor in front of him during his talk and was now gently unraveling the bandage he had been using to immobilize his injury. "H-hey, hey! What the fuck are you doing!? OW! Stop it!"

"Let him do his thing, buddy." Rick told him. He couldn't tell if he was genuinely hurting that badly, if he was just being vocal, or if he had a low pain tolerance threshold; so very much unlike him in that regard.

Birdperson persisted through his patient's protests until he had exposed the ankle. "This appears to be swollen and heavily congested with blood. I will do my best to alleviate your suffering but you will need to continue to take care of yourself in the same way after I have finished." He opened a jar of salve he had brought with him and liberally applied it to the injured joint.

Surgeon Rick's initial reaction was little more than a pained moan, which soon gave way to soft noises of relief. He didn't know what was in the substance and didn't care; the pain was rapidly subsiding and it was all that mattered to him. "Holy shit," he closed his eyes as his head lulled back onto the cushions behind him. "I am SO stealing that when you're not looking..."

Birdperson picked up the bandage to rebind the injury. "Take it with you. It is not difficult to prepare and is always readily available here on Bird World." He stood on his feet again and recapped the jar. "However, I suspect that is not why you are here," he cast his gaze back across the room, "Rick. Everyone is here as you requested. When you are ready, I would like to hear you speak."

While Rick was certainly listening, he didn't respond; he had gotten to his feet again and resumed his slow pacing. His brows were knitted in concentration and he was deep in thought, mentally preparing ahead for all the things he needed to say. Internally, he was also near-panicking; he wasn't sure how the group would react and even if they would agree to any of it. With a heavy sigh, he came to a halt and decided to just start; there was very little else he could do otherwise.

"I need you all to shut up and listen... what I'm about to say is really important, a-and if you interrupt me, it's only going to take even longer. In fact, why don't we just save the questions until the end?" He picked up the bag he had left at the door and set it down on the coffee table. "You still got the core?"

Surgeon Rick snapped back to reality and sat up properly so he could place it down beside the bag. "Uh-huh. Just don't ask me how I got it, OK? I don't wanna get into trouble for this too."

Rick stared at him for a moment, then shrugged it off; he had more important things on his mind. After pulling out the portal gun parts, he began to quickly assemble them with a handheld soldering gun he had brought along. "Birdperson, I don't know what the Galactic Federation is up to and I don't know their next move, but you're all a hell of a lot safer without me... if they ever come back to Bird World and everything goes to shit, I need you to use this and get the fuck outta here. Just... grab whoever you can, including this one," he made a point of glaring at Gresharak. "Just run for it. Do you hear me?"

Birdperson carefully considered the question; while he understood the logic behind it, he did not like the suggestion at all. "Do you really think they will do the same to my planet as they did to yours? I cannot abandon my people, Rick. My species is not as adaptive as yours and I am not certain that I can survive without them."

"You'd be amazed what you can live through..." Rick's voice was distant as he finished the portal gun and took out the next device; a small beacon that looked similar to the one that had been issued to him by the Council of Ricks. "Hopefully it doesn't get to that. In the meantime, there's this. I backwards engineered it from something I already own, but if you activate it, it'll send a distress signal straight to me, n-no matter where I am," he pressed the button and held up his own portal gun to demonstrate. "If the idea of running away like a coward doesn't appeal to you, then just use this to summon me. I'll come running as long as I still can... just don't die in the meantime, OK?"

Birdperson nodded; the second suggestion was far more agreeable to him. However, the last part of Rick's statement made him concerned. "While you still can? I do not understand, Rick. Are you dying?"

"Oh geez, I hope not!" Surgeon Rick sharply interjected. "I just got finished trying out a different avenue, but it's gonna take a few days before the results come back. At the end of the day it's your call bro, but at least let me finish perusing that first, huh?"

Rick didn't answer and moved away to retrieve Morty from his hiding place.

Gresharak looked particularly upset with the direction the conversation was taking but did not speak; she hadn't known the human nearly as long some of as the others in the room and figured there would be time to add her own input later.

Birdperson's eyes were locked on the surgeon now. "You are trying to help Rick? You should have said so in the first place. I will assist in any way I can. Are you a medic?"

"Hah, kinda?" Surgeon Rick dryly laughed. "Except I'm better. A surgeon is like, an advanced-tier medic that actually does useful stuff."

Birdperson seemed puzzled by the word; he hadn't heard it before. "What is a... 'sur-geon'?"

"A bad career choice, yo!" Surgeon Rick cheerfully declared, trying to make light of the situation. When he did not get the desired response, he grumpily folded his arms. "Well, you guys are lame. Anyway, whatever... dude's not gonna die. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Are you dying, Rick?" Birdperson pushed it again; he wanted to hear the answer from him directly.

"Everything dies eventually, Birdperson." Rick sidestepped the question as he carried Morty back to the coffee table. "If it comes to that, I-I need you to take care of my grandson for me. Use Big-Ass Momma Bird's help and draw on her parental expertise if you have to. Use the portal gun to find humans in other dimensions and show him what they're like, otherwise he's gonna think he's all alone... and when he's old enough, tell him what happened. I mean, tell him literally everything. If he wants to hate me for what I've done, then let him... just don't sugarcoat it because I'm not a hero." He finally looked up at Surgeon Rick. "You think you could drop him off here if I can't?"

"Aw shit, dude. Way to put me on the spot like that... this is SO friggin' messed up. If I had known this was where you were going, I would have thought twice about coming..." Surgeon Rick was deeply conflicted; he wanted so badly to launch into a rant and tell Rick that he was going to do everything within his power to keep him alive. On the other hand, he knew that he had to respect his wishes no matter what; the Citadel even had official protocols in place to ensure that a Rick's personal choices were carried out. "Y-yeah." He finally agreed with a great degree of reluctance.

"Good," Rick nodded, seeming much calmer now that he had gotten it off his chest. "Before you go telling me you don't know how to navigate the universe, I've already thought about that part too." He rummaged through the bottom of the bag and took out the holo-projector he had stolen from the electronics lab. "Space-faring travelers use these when they wanna get somewhere. I've preprogramed a bunch of useful co-ordinates into it for you already, and it's just a matter of entering in the rest."

As Birdperson watched on, a vague sense of worry came over him. For as long as he had known Rick, he'd always treated technology like an it was an extension of his biology. Everything seemed to come naturally to him, even if he was looking at it for the first time; it was just another thing that made him so intelligent compared to the rest of the universe. Meanwhile, Birdperson could barely work a device unless it had an on and an off switch. He had no idea how to teach or encourage such an adaptive trait in Morty, or even if it was possible to do so.

Rick became increasingly irritated as he flicked through the generated holograms; the co-ordinates had been entered in exactly as he remembered them, but all the holo-projector would display was floating rubble. "Man, this thing must be more busted than I thought..." He finally brought up the solar system and planet Earth just to make sure it was still working, then furrowed his brows in thought as the display sprang to life with crystal clear clarity.

Morty immediately tried to climb his grandfather's legs to attack the pretty light show.

"How am I supposed to use this, Rick?" Birdperson asked finally. "How much time do you have left, and how much can you allocate to teaching me?"

"I said save the questions for the end..." Rick grumpily muttered as he flicked through the list of co-ordinates again, bringing up the one that would display Bird World.

Once again, the holo-projector displayed nothing but scattered rubble drifting through the abyss of space.

"Is this device predicting what is to come?" Birdperson's emotionless voice had become quiet.

"N-no... it's a just a map. It's showing what already exists..." Rick checked the display yet again; the co-ordinate was indeed correct. He turned the device off and flipped it over to work out the source of the problem, but found it immediately; he discovered that it was still configured to Dimension Q-316. "Well, shit... what the hell is happening over there?"

Surgeon Rick had been quietly sitting through the whole thing, though there was little he could do to lighten the mood. "I can grab another from HQ if you want it that bad," he offered. "Wouldn't be hard to set it to whatever dimension you want."

Rick turned to face him, his expression firm, yet uneasy. "I don't want another one, I wanna know what's going on with this one," he held up the holo-projector again and flipped through the preprogrammed co-ordinates as he mentioned their locations. "Bird World is toast, planet Squanch is gone too... e-even the Traflorkian system and its three moons are nothing more than space carnage! What the hell is your boss running from, and what is the meaning of this shit?!"

"Whoa, cool it, dude!" Surgeon Rick put up both hands in the attempt to settle him. "I told you before, I don't know. I just work for him, I don't know very much about his dimensional dramas or his personal life, other than what little he's told me himself. You probably know more than I do by now."

The comment seemed to calm Rick a little, but it still didn't stop him from slamming the holo-projector down onto the coffee table. "It just stresses the point of how important this is!" His attention returned to Birdperson. "Don't you get it?! If this can happen on other timelines, you can sure as shit believe it's gonna happen on ours too!"

"Rick, I really do not think-"

"Don't think about it, just do it!" Rick interjected. "Keep that portal gun and beacon on you at all times. Whatever happens to me, you gotta look out for number one!"

The only indication of Birdperson's mood was his rigid posture; Rick's harsh words only served as more of a motivator for him to rejoin the fight against the Federation. "I will do everything I can to keep my people safe, Rick. If using your portal gun to evacuate them to another world is what it takes, then so be it."

Rick looked at Gresharak, then at Surgeon Rick. He shook his head to try and clear it, then finally settled his attention back on Birdperson as he calmed down again, satisfied by his answer. "Well... good, because you're going to need it regardless of what happens to me."

"Rick, I do not understand," Birdperson spoke again. "You said so yourself in your previous talks with me, Morty needs to grow up around humans. If you are unwilling to leave him in the care of another on Bird World and rejoin the fight against the Federation, then why are you fine with leaving him with us if you pass away?"

Rick buried his head in his hands and groaned in frustration; it was a perfectly logical question that deserved an honest answer, so he gave it readily. "Because it's the only solution I have right now..."

"You sure you don't wanna leave him with another Rick, bro?" Surgeon Rick asked quickly. "I mean, I'd offer, but, well... don't even ask about what's going on with the family back in my dimension. And then the boss doesn't really have his own-"

Rick already knew where the sentence was going and sharply cut him off. "No!" He gritted his teeth and turned on him in a sudden fury. "NO! He's the LAST person I want to deal with it!" He sharply turned on his heels and shoved the front door open as he stormed out of the tree house.

"Aw shit, wait up!" Surgeon Rick called out as he began to rise to his feet. "We can talk about this!"

"Leave him be for now." Birdperson placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated. "For as long as I have known Rick, he has always had an explosive temper like this. Giving him the time to calm down allows him to become level-headed and reasonable once again. This pattern of behavior seems to become more unpredictable when he is inebriated."

"How dense are you?" Surgeon Rick stared up at him in disbelief. "You think that's a temper tantrum? He's still dealing with all his shit... it's a coping mechanism. So is the alcoholism, but I don't think he even brought anything with him to drink this time. I think he's actually sober right now? I don't know."

Birdperson's feathers ruffled as he retracted his hand; he'd always thought of himself as perceptive and didn't much appreciate being told otherwise. "He is still grieving?"

With a soft noise of mockery, Surgeon Rick made his reply. "Ya think? More like it's barely begun. Imagine that everything's fine one day, and then everyone around you dies the next. Then discovering it's all your fault and having to bear the burden of wiping out your entire species? He was already looking for reasons to bother staying alive, but to get thrown a curve ball on top of all that is like, shit... a lesser man would have cracked by now."

Birdperson glanced back at the door. "How would one appropriately deal with a grieving human? I fear that I have been failing at it this entire time."

Surgeon Rick awkwardly scratched the back of his head; it was such a heavy question with a vast array of answers and none of them would have been particularly correct considering the type of person Rick was. He finally gave the other a small resigned sigh. "I dunno... you tell me." He was suddenly quiet. "Wait, how high up are we? We're not just gonna leave him out there, right?"

Birdperson walked over to the door and peered through the clear panel in the attempt to allay his fears. "He appears to be seated. This is something I have seen him do often." He stepped away from the door again. "Do not worry. Although we are easily twenty feet off the ground, I have witnessed Rick jump off my balcony multiple times without sustaining injuries when he hits the bottom."

"Good," Surgeon Rick muttered. "Fuckin' crazy-ass bastard..."

Gresharak took a look at the other two, then silently got to her feet and headed out the door for herself; perhaps a slightly different approach was necessary.

* * *

Rick huddled in a seated position on the edge of the landing with his knees drawn up to his chest. He sat that way just because he could and to make himself more comfortable; the pain in his abdomen had returned and was now a constant dull ache that radiated into his chest. Although he'd already patted himself down to look for a hip flask, he already knew there was no reason to bother; last time he had been drinking, it made him sick before his body could absorb the alcohol content. If he couldn't even enjoy the perks of his long-term habit, then it was completely pointless. When he finally found it in his top coat pocket, he angrily pitched it over the edge, but the dull clattering sound it made when it hit the ground below didn't make him feel any better.

His initial reaction was little more than a soft warning grunt when he heard Gresharak come outside to join him on the balcony; he'd escaped out there because it had become too much for him and the last thing he wanted was company.

"It is going to be a pleasant day, yes? If the rains persist like they have, we can expect to have a good growing season." Gresharak offered as she sat down next to him.

Rick did not look up. "Go away." His expression hardened; he had wanted time alone with his thoughts and this was the exact opposite of that.

"You did not provide an opportunity to ask questions," Gresharak tried again, "I am sure that your friends wanted to."

"Wasn't much point," Rick replied tersely, "I asked questions, everyone complied. I got done what I needed to."

"You are very strange. Do you know that?"

Rick did not answer this time; it was an obvious attempt at trying to open a line of dialogue about himself, which he didn't want. His desire to be alone was becoming stronger by the second and he was already considering jumping off the edge of the platform.

"I have noticed something very interesting occurring, you know."

Rick subtly inched closer towards the edge.

"You are growing up."

It was enough to make him stop. "What?"

"You are growing up." Gresharak repeated the statement. "At first I thought you were a selfish creature, but I was wrong. The more I learn of you, the more I like you. You place the welfare of others well above your own and the requests you made inside were an extension of that occurring in greater detail. You were doing more than thinking about the safety of one person... it was an insurance policy for your grandson and our entire flock. You have come such a long way since I first met you."

"You don't know me," Rick admonished her, "I-I don't care what you've observed or what you think... that's always how it's been."

"If that is so, then I openly admit to being wrong. However, what you said did not feel complete," Gresharak continued. "What do you plan to do with yourself?"

And there it was; more than obvious this time. He knew the question should have annoyed him, but it didn't. There was little point in sidestepping the issue either; he'd burdened her with the prospect of raising his grandson and she deserved to know the truth. "I-I don't know if I'm gonna be around long enough to need much more of a plan... but it's only one possibility. Always have a backup plan."

"If you could save yourself, would you?"

Rick was silent for a long time before answering; it was certainly not going to be a simple answer. "I-I don't know..."

"I was not always a part of the northern flock, you know." Gresharak sat up tall and seemed to find the same comfort that Rick did in staring off into nothingness. "My family came from an island in the south. We lived in the rainforest among some of the oldest trees on Bird World. When the resistance was deployed to Glapflap's third moon, we were still dealing with residual Federation forces. Thanks to you, we had the firepower to defeat their last stronghold and the only option they had left was to retreat." Her voice broke momentarily, but she found the strength to continue. "As they fled, they set fire to our homes and the entire island was razed to the ground. Many died and we were forced to leave. Like you, I have come here as a refugee, but the northern flock accepted us all the same."

Rick attentively listened in silence; it was just another of the many stories he'd heard about the atrocities committed on Bird World.

"Why are they so intent on destroying us?" The bird woman's voice was hollow and her eyes were unfocused. "They will not stop until they have control of everything."

"P-pretty much..." Rick mumbled. "Sounds like my shit... what they did to you was in spite. You weren't even in their way." He paused as he finally looked up at her, his expression suppressed and near unreadable. "Why are you telling me this...?"

"Because my flock has treated me as family and I will pay it forward. You asked for my help in raising your grandson and my answer is yes." Gresharak's answer was just above a whisper. "For as long I live and breathe, I will do everything within my power to protect those who live here."

Rick's posture became stiff as a board; it was the answer he wanted, but he still didn't feel worthy of it. "M-Morty would have a good life here... it doesn't matter that he'd never be able to fly. If he ends up like me, he'll find his own workarounds, a-and..." He swallowed a hard lump in his throat; he didn't want Morty to be anything like him.

A horrible thought suddenly penetrated his consciousness; if Morty was going to grow up to be like him, then maybe his brainwave pattern would become as traceable as his own too.

"O-oh god... no..." Rick hugged himself around the middle; he had already been huddled up and couldn't bunch up tighter than he already was. The thought of Morty dooming himself to the same kind of life as him hurt to the core; he didn't want him to make the same mistakes and couldn't even steer him away from them if he wasn't going to be around to see him grow up. Out of habit, he fumbled through his coat pockets, but now he couldn't even drink if he wanted to because he'd been stupid enough to throw his flask away.

The scientist was so distracted that he didn't hear the sound of ruffling feathers as they slowly extended out behind him. Suddenly, his vision was obscured by a blur of blues and teals; he was literally being sheltered by the underside of Gresharak's wing.

"Whatever happens, just know that your family is here for you and that you do not have to suffer alone." The bird mother's voice was quiet and sincere as she wrapped her wing around him in the same way she would do to one of her hatchlings. "No matter where you go, you will always have a home here."

Perhaps it was because it wasn't a hug; Rick was so heavily guarded that he hadn't been able to accept one of those in a long time. Perhaps being enveloped in warmth and having his senses blocked out helped too, and although it didn't quell the fears over his grandson, it was still enough to start calming him down again.

"The decision you make is your own." Gresharak told him in a reassuring voice.

The muffled voice under the wing finally uttered a small pathetic declaration. "I-I don't want to die..."

Although pleased by the response, the bird mother said nothing; there was nothing else she needed to say and simply stood there until she was satisfied that the human was properly calm again. In another moment, she withdrew her wing and used it to launch herself several feet into the air, thrusting it downward again as she took off and flew away.

As Rick watched the feathered form disappear over the line of the trees, he finally got what he had wanted in the first place; to be alone and to have time to think. And although he now had an urgent desire to do some investigation into Morty's mind, he felt like he'd finally chosen something right for once.

* * *

By the time Rick felt ready enough to come back inside, he was met with the sight of Surgeon Rick engaged in an enthusiastic conversation with both Birdperson and Squanchy. Not only was he totally into it, but the other two seemed to be as well.

"Nah, that's what I'm sayin'... the drums might be the heartbeat, but the bass is the soul. People don't have souls, but music does. In fact where I come from, there's a whole music genre called that." Surgeon Rick looked particularly smug. "Look it up."

"Squanch me," Squanchy laughed as he cuffed him in the shoulder with a paw. "Now you're just bullshitting us!"

"No, really!" Surgeon Rick took out his portal gun. "Do you want me to go get you an encyclopedia? I swear I'm not making this up."

"I have no reason to doubt the validity of his claims." Birdperson calmly dispensed his own opinion. "Here on Bird World we have a genre of music called," the sentence became a string of trills and whistles.

Rick folded his arms across his chest as he stood in the middle of the room; they'd certainly been busy during his time-out. "Well you sure got over your differences pretty quickly..." He shot a semi-serious glare in Surgeon Rick's direction. "Are you trying to steal my friends now?"

Squanchy sprang off the couch and bounded over to Rick. "Hey Sanchez, we're leaving in another week and I got a crazy idea. Why not take this guy with us and get the band back together? We can go back undercover and heck... remember how you were always squanchin' on about needing a bassist? No-one's gonna know the difference between you and him either. Think of how great it'd be!"

"You really think the Feds are stupid enough to fall for that shit again?" Rick narrowed his eyes at Surgeon Rick, glaring even harder. "Don't tell me you actually know how to play?"

"Buddy... please. Infinite realities and you think you're the only Rick who knows how to belt out a few strings? Keep dreaming over there." Surgeon Rick matched his expression. "I'm probably not as good as you, but I don't suck at it either. Who do you think owns the acoustic Fender guitar in your room? Thanks for not breaking it, by the way."

Squanchy bounded back across the room in his excitement, clearly wound up by the places his thoughts were taking him. "Think of the possibilities! Reunion tours and reconnecting with our old contacts," his expression turned predatory. "And all the tail we can squanch?"

Rick's expression was openly annoyed. "No."

Squanchy's face immediately fell in disappointment. "Why not?"

"Because no, that's why. We've already had this conversation and my answer hasn't changed." Rick scowled back at him. "Besides... the Gromflomites can track me down anywhere across the universe. It's better for everyone if I'm not even here."

"You keep saying that, but I do not understand," Birdperson told him. "Please explain yourself, Rick."

"He's actually not wrong," Surgeon Rick spoke for him. "It's in our biology. Our brains make us fucking amazing, but it's like a gift and a curse. Ricks are a prime target for being attacked, stolen, murdered, and whatever other bullshit you can think of. We've kinda got it bad out there."

Birdperson did not seem pleased with the answer.

"I'm done," Rick bluntly declared, sounding more like an overtired child than anything else. "I don't wanna be here any more."

Surgeon Rick slowly pushed himself to his feet, finding it much easier to stand this time. "Then go, buddy. I'm only here because you asked me to come."

"Good," Rick spoke the words unkindly to Birdperson as he took out his portal gun. "Bye."

"Rick," Birdperson took two steps towards him. "Come back often and keep us informed. Regardless of your opinion on the situation developing here, I would still like to hear from you as the status of your health is rather concerning."

"W-whatever... I'm taking this." Rick snatched up the holo-projector and fired a portal at the wall opposite him; the last thing he wanted was to talk about himself again for a while. "Come on, Morty... let's hit it."

Morty clumsily stepped in front of his grandfather and curiously peered at the swirling portal before him. Although he was definitely getting braver, he still wasn't quite ready to step into it yet.

Rick rolled his eyes and extended a foot to nudge him the rest of the way through. "Hurry the fuck up," he shot a glare in Surgeon Rick's direction. "Are you coming, o-or what?"

Surgeon Rick sighed; while he understood Rick's bad mood, he didn't want to leave on such a sour note. "Hey." he moved to stand in front of Birdperson and extended a closed fist out towards him.

Birdperson's attention was fixed on his hand, not knowing what to do with it. After a moment of silence, he tentatively mimicked the action, figuring it was some kind of human cultural thing.

Surgeon Rick responded with a wide grin and gently bumped his knuckles against Birdperson's. "I'll make sure he keeps you updated. Otherwise I'll kick his ass, yo! You guys are awesome." He stepped towards the portal. "Later, fuckers!"

Birdperson was left staring at the wall after the portal disintegrated in their departure; the friendliness of the human gesture wasn't lost on him, but it was still strange.

* * *

 **December 1st, 9:30pm, Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316**

* * *

"Yo, wait up!"

Rick gritted his teeth as he briskly moved away from the portal hub, just wanting to retreat. He scowled down at the holo-projector in his hands, deeply troubled by what it had displayed earlier; he wanted answers.

"Are you deaf? I said wait the fuck up!"

Rick rolled his eyes and kept going, but it was Morty's demanding cries that finally slowed him down again.

"Hey... don't make me run, OK?" Surgeon Rick finally caught up in an awkward limp. "Look, I know shit is complicated with you right now, but you didn't have to leave your friends behind like that."

"Really?" Rick finally came to a halt and turned around to glare back at the other. "That's why you stopped me? To tell me off about how I treat people? "

"Yeah... no." Surgeon Rick paused. "Well, it's kinda shitty, but whatever. Point is, I get it. I finally worked out what makes you so interested in hanging around those guys."

"Huh?" Rick raised an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean?" He ignored the tiny pair of hands tugging on his pant-leg.

"When I first read up on you, I was like... what?" Surgeon Rick shrugged to emphasize his statement. "What business does a Rick have hanging out with backwards tree-dwelling hippie bird people? There didn't seem to be anything to gain from them. They don't have technology like we do and everything is built out of wood. It's like they're stuck in the medieval ages, but with trees and shit."

Rick's expression returned to a deep scowl as he finally gave into Morty's demand and picked him up. "Make yourself useful and hold onto this for me." He stuffed the holo-projector into the little boy's open hands, then glanced back at the surgeon. "I hope you're not going where I think you are with this. I-I don't want your criticism."

"No, that's just it," Surgeon Rick went on, "I was gonna do that until I actually met them. I'm saying I get it... I totally understand why you hang around with them, dude. They were pissed at first, but they let it go once they worked out I wasn't gonna hurt them. And the way they treat each other is like... they're objectively better than people in every way."

Rick turned around and continued on his way. "They certainly are."

"Don't take that kinda shit for granted, dude." Surgeon Rick bluntly stated. "It sounds like you got unfinished business there still. Are you gonna go back?"

"Maybe," Rick replied as he glared at the holo-projector, then at Morty. "But there's some stuff I gotta do first."


	24. The Rick And The Dead

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is fanfiction and unlicensed/unofficial material. Please support the official content.

 **NOTE:** So with the advent of Season 3... it doesn't change my story an ounce! In fact I actually _correctly_ predicted some things (such as the Feds not having access to interdimensional tech). Yaaaay! Season 3's appearance won't affect this story, its original ending, its plot, or its updates.

* * *

" _Every existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness, and dies by chance."_

 _\- Jean-Paul Sartre_

* * *

 **Chapter 24 – The Rick And The Dead**

 **December 1st, 9:45pm, Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316**

* * *

"What the fuck is this shit!?"

Approximately three seconds ago, Rick had discovered that Surgeon Rick's door code was universal and could grant access anywhere he entered it. Fortunately for him, it worked on Ricktus's door and he was able to barge into the room uninvited. He kicked an empty wine bottle in his pathway to the bed and threw the holo-projector down onto the mass of covers as his demands were escalated to a shout. "Wake UP, moron!"

Unfortunately for him, Ricktus was unresponsive; he was still very much asleep and was being watched over by three other bee hybrid insects. Two of them regarded the intruder with complete indifference, while the third reared up on its hind legs and made loud threatening sounds. Rick held Morty in one hand and used the other to snatch at one of the bee's claws, throwing it off the bed in an aggressive motion. It was much lighter than anticipated and it flew further than he intended.

"Wake up, you sadistic fuck!" Rick demanded a second time, then shoved the sleeping lump in the shoulder. "You have some explaining to do!"

Ricktus's first reply was a grumpy moan. He forced his eyes open and wasted no time glaring up at the blurred shape overhead. "Explain what, exactly...?"

"How about you actually sit up and pay attention to what I'm showing you?" Rick spat back. "Your dimension's gone to shit... a-anywhere worth anything in the galaxy has already been destroyed. You wanna fill me in, or what?"

Ricktus did not move; he didn't want to entertain the question and was more interested in going back to sleep. "You woke me up over that? I don't know. Now go away." He made his displeasure known by rolling over and turning his back on the scientist.

Rick visibly bristled; that was the last response he wanted. "Stop being so evasive, you goddamned son of a bitch! Get up!" He snatched up the blankets and tore them off the bed.

While the sight of another version of himself lying in bed should have been nothing out of the ordinary, it wasn't; what he saw next made him stop dead. Both of the doctor's legs ended approximately three-quarters of the way down his thighs and connected to what was left of them were metallic biomechanical junctures that had been surgically grafted onto flesh and bone.

All the scientist could do was stare; while he'd certainly seen the technology before and knew about the outstanding injury from the video archives, it still managed to take him by surprise. "Holy shit..."

Ricktus gave up upon hearing the declaration; he'd already been disturbed and figured he wasn't going back to sleep again soon, especially considering how persistent his charge could be in the pursuit of knowledge. He finally hauled himself to a sitting position on his arms and shuffled towards the edge of the bed, his movements awkward without the weight of his lower limbs to counterbalance himself. "Are you satisfied? I told you I don't know. If I did, I certainly wouldn't be sharing that information with you. I'd be taking it straight to the Council to let them decide what to do." He reached behind him to grab the holo-projector, then looked at it thoughtfully as he turned it over in both hands. "Ah, of course this why you're asking. And you've fixed it... you've been busy, haven't you?"

Rick ignored the question. "No wonder why you said you can't run," he shifted the squirming youngster onto his other arm. "You're an amputee."

"Well, that's rude," Ricktus reached across to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. "We prefer the term 'people of mechanical enhancement'." After putting them on, he scowled back at his dimensional counterpart. "Before you ask why, it's personal preference... the rehabilitation time was faster than regrowing new limbs and I had too much shit to do. It's no secret that in most universes everyone wants a piece of Rick Sanchez, and in this one, the bastards got it. I've been 'mutilated' as you so aptly put it."

"Does it hurt?" It was an absentminded question that just sort of slipped out.

"I don't want to talk about it. Do me a favor and don't bring it up again." The doctor finally set the holo-projector aside. "And for once, I'm not actually trying to evade answering your dumb questions. I genuinely don't know what happened to... whatever you've been looking at."

Rick's expression became suspicious; he was entirely unconvinced.

"Look, I want to go back to sleep," Ricktus bluntly stated. "If I tell you what I know, will you go away?"

Meanwhile, Morty had been holding onto his grandfather throughout the entire exchange. He was tired, hungry, and nearing the end of his tether, so he made his feelings known with a very audible whine. While he wasn't quite in an unreasonable state yet, he was certainly going to work his way up to it if left unchecked.

"Fine..." Rick conceded; he saw no reason to disagree and Morty's noises were a warning sign that it was time to leave anyway.

"I know my universe is fucked," Ricktus began. "Most of them have their own ridiculous dramas and it's better to stay out of them or risk ending up like you."

Rick made his own feelings known with a short unappreciative grunt.

Ricktus ignored him. "I don't know what happened to my universe and it doesn't concern me. I'd like to know what happened here, but I'm the sole surviving member of the crew and my personal account is useless. For all their technology, they didn't even think leave behind a forensic black box recorder or anything... s-so fucking stupid." He gave a rueful shake of his head before continuing. "I originally came here with one specific purpose in mind, and that was to, well..." He trailed off. "They needed my skills and I needed their technology. I don't know what the morons who ran this ship originally had in mind. I don't know what they were running from either, I was never privy to their battle tactics or plans. All I did ever here was spend my days cleaning up after their casualties."

Rick snorted derisively. "You mean to tell me that you didn't bother doing any research into your employers? Like, w-who even does that? What if they were a bunch of rapists or space pirates? What if their intentions were selfish?"

Ricktus softly chuckled at the suggestions. "You mean like my employers now? Do you honestly think I gave a shit what their motivations were at the time? I was desperate. If I had known they were so screwed, I probably would have thought twice about coming here in the first place, but hindsight is always 20/20." He threw the holo-projector onto the nightstand as his expression darkened. "They were the means to an end and absolutely nothing has changed, even now. Everyone has their own agenda. Surely you can appreciate that?"

Rick simply shrugged and said nothing.

"So, are you done?" The doctor resumed glaring at him, having become fed up with him still being there. "Unlike you, I actually have a sleeping pattern. Sleeping, drinking, and fucking are my three favorite things, and I'd like to tick off at least two of those today. I was all alone before you got here, so... guess which ones I was going for."

"Not quite done yet," Rick replied. "If this place is associated with such bad memories, then why would you bother coming back after it was trashed? I know I wouldn't."

"Hah," Ricktus dryly smirked; he actually agreed with him on something for once. "At first it was a place where we could conduct experiments without the Council breathing down our necks. They leave us alone here and rent is free. I stay because I've become comfortable."

"You mean 'complacent'."

"You're done, aren't you?" Ricktus narrowed his eyes, then nodded towards one of the insectoid creatures with him on the bed. "Because if you're not, you're about to be."

Rick continued to focus his stern gaze on the doctor, but for a brief moment there was worry behind his expression. "Has Morty inherited the same damn brainwave curse as us?"

"What?" Ricktus blinked, seeming taken aback by the question, all traces of anger suddenly gone from his face. "Really? You're worried about that?" He furrowed his brows in thought. "You're definitely not the first Rick to have thought of it. We've got... very limited data on the subject right now. Of course, the number of available Mortys to work with is also quite small too, so if you wanted to contribute yours to the research pool, the Council would be glad to have him."

"He's not a lab rat," Rick growled, "I don't want them touching him ever again."

"I can't tell you for certain, but the likelihood of him developing any brainwave activity similar to ours is slim to none. He's not like us... at all." It was hard to tell if the doctor was still talking to him or thinking out loud. "If you wanted a more detailed answer, you would have to go to the Citadel and request the official findings conducted by the Laboratory Ricks. The Council has been keeping a close eye on it since Morty was born, but he's far too young for any kind of interesting brain activity to have manifested just yet."

Rick slowly nodded, though he didn't seem content with the answer.

"He's related to Jerry for fuck's sake," Ricktus muttered sarcastically, "I'm actually surprised he doesn't walk into walls..."

"So you think he's stupid too." Rick flattened his brow as low as it would go; his mood had deteriorated almost as much as Morty's. Then, like so many of his crazy ideas, another came to him randomly and the gears of thought turned over in his head. He glanced at the holo-projector, then at the doctor's biomechanical leg junctions, then finally to the bees loafing on the bunk bed, knowing that they all fit together somehow. "Which one of these stupid insects is your favorite?"

It was the doctor's turn to be suspicious. "Why?"

"I just wanna know," Rick did his best to sound disinterested. "Tell me."

Ricktus let out a long tense sigh. "If I do, will you shut up and go away?"

"Y-yeah." Rick stated truthfully; he had every intention of doing so now.

Ricktus rolled his eyes; although he saw no point in answering, he still pointed to the bee that Rick had assaulted earlier. "Her name is 'Fleur'. I swear, if you harm her-"

"Phh, relax, I'm not going to." Rick stated before he could finish, then turned to scowl down at the insect. "You," his tone became commanding, "I need you to find the damn idiot's prosthetic limbs for me."

"Wait, what are you doing?!" Ricktus loudly objected. "I-I need those!"

Fleur stood up at once, her antennae high over her head. She had absolutely no idea why her 'master' had thrown her so ungraciously before, but she was still eager to please him. Without waiting for another instruction, she sprang under the bed and used her jaws to pull the desired objects out into the open.

"Good," Rick stood back to watch, pleased by how ridiculously easy it was. "Now carry them both and follow me."

"No!" Ricktus protested. He pushed himself to the very edge of the bed, but there little more he could do in his current state. "I kind of need those to do anything useful! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

The bee picked up and held onto the metallic limbs easily in each of her scythe claws, but her attention alternated between both Ricks as they spoke, confused by the two conflicting instructions. She quickly decided to follow the first set and moved to stand beside the one who was standing.

"You're pathetic and you can't run," Rick finally answered, his tone turning cold. "You want them back? Come over here and get them."

Ricktus couldn't glare at the scientist any harder.

"Don't worry. I'm just gonna borrow them, kinda like you did with my portal gun." Rick was smug now; the tables had turned and he couldn't deny how good it felt to put the other Rick in a position of powerlessness after everything he'd done to him. "By the way, you're wrong about one thing. You weren't the only one who survived the attack on your ship. There's another that's been here the whole time, and I've already worked out to get answers out of them."

Ricktus's anger evaporated as he stared at the scientist in disbelief. "How...?"

"Oh, you'll see," Rick turned around and headed for the door. "Come on Morty, I'm done here and you kinda need a nap." He slipped into the corridor with the bee still obediently following at his heels.

"Why would you steal somebody's prosthetics?!" Ricktus fumbled for his datapad as he yelled at the closing door. "You sick bastard!"

* * *

This was the second time that Surgeon Rick had been called to respond to one of the doctor's alerts since being injured. While the first had been in much more dire circumstances, the information he was provided with this time suggested that the situation was every bit as urgent. When he rushed into the room, he was met with a very anticlimactic scene; Ricktus was still seated on his bed and there didn't seem to be any emergency situation at all.

The surgeon couldn't have looked any more unimpressed as he limped across to the bunk bed. "OK, what the fuck happened now?"

"I didn't want to call you," Ricktus admitted at once. "But I need your help. Rick B-526 has stolen my biomechanical enhancements and I need you to get them back for me."

Surgeon Rick stared back at his boss, then had to bite his lower lip to stifle a loud snicker. "You're fuckin' kidding, right?" A grin cracked through his expression, which turned into a fit of bemused laughter when he couldn't hold back any more. "Holy shit, bro, just... really?! That's fuckin' hilarious!"

"I-I'm being serious!" Ricktus quickly sputtered in his agitation. "You have better negotiation skills than I do, so go find him and get them back before he does... I don't even know what he's planning! While you're at it, give him a lesson in basic decency because who even does that?! Would you steal a short-sighted man's glasses?" He paused, his brow flattening. "Well, maybe YOU would..."

"Maybe?" Surgeon Rick smirked back at him. "I'd do a lotta things, but stealing the shit you use to walk is kinda going too far." He breathed a tired sigh as his amusement faded. "I'm just glad this isn't something more serious, y'know? I'm gettin' sick of being your gopher." He hummed in thought. "Wait, why do you need me? You got two minions there on the bed with you."

"They're not the best negotiators..." Ricktus grumpily muttered. "You would be better at it. You have more tact and he actually listens to you for some reason."

"Yeah, tact," Surgeon Rick scoffed, "I-I don't think you know me at all."

"Just go." Ricktus spoke in a warning tone, blatantly implying that he was done with the conversation. "The sooner you get it over with, the sooner you can go back to resting."

"Hey, uh," Surgeon Rick seemed a little hesitant now. "While we're on the subject, whatever happened to that Rick's Citadel registration forms?"

"I think we left them in the Council's office," Ricktus sounded unsure, for he wasn't entirely certain himself. "Why?"

"I need 'em back," as the surgeon answered, there was no hint of sarcasm or jest in his voice. "Some real serious shit went down today and I gotta add to them."

Ricktus was immediately troubled by the new information, but did not show it; instead he narrowed his eyes in reply. "Elaborate."

"Uh, well..." Surgeon Rick glanced off to the side. "He asked me to go back to his native dimension with him. I went with it because, y'know, information gathering and shit? Well, you know that part on the forms about what to do in the event of a Rick's death? I got more to add to it. He wants his Morty left in the care of his bird people allies if he dies, so... I gotta write that down and submit it."

"That's preposterous!" Ricktus spat back at once. "Why would he choose that? A Morty deserves so much more than a boring life among hippie tree people!"

Surgeon Rick shrugged. "And who are you to deny another brother's death wishes?"

Ricktus hissed through gritted teeth. "It's stupid, that's all..." He waved it off with his hand as if brushing off his feelings toward the matter. "Whatever. Just keep a close eye on it, C-711. Behavior like that has two causes – either he's legitimately planning for his own demise because he knows he's sick, or... he's still plotting to kill himself. You would be dumb if you rule it out because it's too recent to ignore."

"Got it," Surgeon Rick nodded; he had his own feelings on the subject but figured getting into it was highly likely to end in hostility. Instead, he opted for the door, seeming keen to escape.

"One last thing," Ricktus suddenly spoke up as he watched his assistant leaving. "Do you know what happened to D-491's portal gun? It was supposed to go with him when I delivered him to the Citadel infirmary for processing, but it's not where I left it. Sancheziminius is asking for it and it's going to reflect badly on the entire project if we've lost it."

"Dunno," Surgeon Rick did his best to sound aloof as he slipped into the corridor. "I've mostly been in my room when you haven't called me to deal with your shit."

The doctor chose to give him the benefit of the doubt as he was left alone in the room.

* * *

Although he was glad for the fact that Rick's movements around the ship were becoming predictable, Surgeon Rick had already decided that it was too quiet for his liking as he stood at the doorway to the electronics lab. He took two lumbering steps into the room so as not to startle his new friend, but after taking three more towards the workbench, he noticed that either the scientist didn't know he was there, or didn't want to bother acknowledging his presence.

"Hey," Surgeon Rick said finally; he didn't know how much of a touchy subject it was going to be, but he had to say something. "While I think it's awesome that you took up my advice on not going on any more crazy adventures, I gotta call you out on something. Look," he cleared his throat and did his best to sound serious, "I love pranks as much as the next guy, but stealing a dude's mobility shit is too far, bro. You wanna give back the crap you stole from my boss?"

Rick did not look up.

Surgeon Rick's shoulders sank in disappointment at Rick's behavior. "Come on, it's late and I wanna go to bed. This is petty childish bullshit."

"It certainly is," Rick nodded in agreement. "Fuck that guy for what he did to me."

"Oh, so that's what it is?" Surgeon Rick grunted. "Payback?" He was no stranger to the altercations that Ricks often had with each other. It happened all over the Citadel at every level of management; even the Council themselves had their own disagreements every now and then. He'd fallen for it more than a few times himself, though the squabbles with his boss usually ended in him yielding because he was the subordinate one. If the motive was indeed payback in this case, it didn't surprise him in the slightest; he knew neither his boss or this Rick got along.

Rick's answer was stony silence.

"If that's what it is," Surgeon Rick spoke again, "then get over yourself. I mean, I know he's an asshole, but this isn't worth your time."

"Uh-huh." Rick wasn't really listening. He busied himself by levering the casing off the left metallic limb with a screwdriver and seemed more interested in picking through the internal mechanism as he worked out how it went together.

"Holy shit, what are you doing!?" Surgeon Rick yelped. "I hope you're gonna put that back together the way you found it!"

"Not even slightly." Rick threw a threadbare screw across the desk, and then a gear that had shed some of its teeth. He moved off the chair and stood directly over the top of his work, his eyes narrowing as he removed three more damaged components. "No wonder this idiot can't run... i-it's a wonder he can function at all with this outdated tech. Who even uses gears for fine motor movement any more?" He turned the device onto its side and began to repeatedly thump it on the tabletop, knocking free the copious amount of metal filings that had been freely floating around inside.

Surgeon Rick just stood back and silently observed what he was doing; while it was beyond his area of expertise, he already comprehended that Rick's current actions likely weren't being done with malicious intent like he had previously thought. "You're... fixing it, aren't you?"

"Sort of," Rick gruffly replied as he hunched over the maintenance hatch, seeming far more interested in tinkering. "I'm making it less shit."

Before any more could be said, a loud piercing wail cut through the peace of the room; Morty had been fast asleep in his mobile crib, but clearly wasn't now.

Rick shook his head in frustration; he had just started to enjoy himself and being interrupted seemed typical of his grandson by now. Instead of complaining about it though, he moved over to the little boy and wasted no time picking him up so he could place him over his shoulder. "Hey buddy, what the hell is that all about?"

Morty's reply was a loud cry as he hugged onto his grandfather and buried his face in his shoulder, desperately seeking his warmth and comfort.

Rick held onto him for a moment, then carried him back to the workbench. As he patted the youngster on the back in the attempt to soothe him, he began pondering the root cause of the problem; it certainly wasn't his fault this time. It had been more like a spontaneous reaction, like he was frightened out of his wits. Because there had been nothing else around to startle him, the scientist could only reach one conclusion. "Do kids this young have nightmares?"

"Sure, why not? Nobody knows for sure, but it's plausible." Surgeon Rick answered, then loudly yawned. "You gonna be much longer? What am I supposed to tell the boss?"

"Why don't you just sleep on it? You've already proven that you're smart enough to come up with your own lies." Rick grumbled; he literally didn't care about how the doctor might have felt. Morty was a much higher priority and he actually felt terrible for the youngster; after everything he'd been through, it was little wonder that his mind had conjured up a bad dream. While he didn't know how much capacity Morty had to store long-term memories yet, he certainly had a set of awful experiences to draw from if he did, and worse, there wasn't even anything he could do to make it better except offer his closeness.

"Yeah, great advice, bro." Surgeon Rick huffed in irritation. "If I go to bed without dealing with this, I'm never gonna hear the end of it."

"Grow a pair and tell him to fight his own battles." Rick hissed back at him. "I'd work faster if I wasn't distracted." His efforts to settle Morty again were soon rewarded with silence, and he set him in his lap as he sat down at the workbench again. "So, a nightmare, huh? It's OK, I get them too. To be honest, they don't ever really go away... do you wanna know how I deal with them?"

Morty silently stared up at the older man, teary eyed.

"I just tell myself that they aren't real, and that none of it matters," Rick's voice became quiet as he explained, despite knowing he wouldn't understand. "They're the one thing in this whole shitty fucked up existence that actually isn't real. You remember that next time your mind plays cruel tricks on you, won't you, Morty?" As he reached down to ruffle the little boy's hair, he realized that he was talking to himself more than his grandson. "D-don't let it get to you."

Morty he leaned heavily against his favorite person; his towering presence was like a balm to his fears and just being in his company settled him down again.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Rick couldn't help but feel a little smug. "Nothing's gonna hurt you here, buddy. I'll kick its ass if it tries."

Surgeon Rick surreptitiously headed for the door; he felt like he was intruding on a personal moment and it was worth more to leave than to keep arguing his point. He had no sarcastic remark or goodbye as he slipped away and left the pair to their own devices. He hoped that Rick was going to stay true to his word on fixing the biomechanical enhancements, but there was no evidence to suggest otherwise; he wasn't like the other Ricks. There was something about him which just kept standing out, though he still couldn't put his finger on it; he only knew that their interactions together and watching him with Morty fortified those thoughts.

He was definitely a different breed.

* * *

Ricktus had fallen asleep waiting for his assistant to carry out his instructions and it was only his natural sleeping rhythms that finally woke him up again. When he discovered that his biomechanical attachments were lying in the middle of the floor, he breathed a sigh of relief; although he had been angry about the fact they had been taken, it was much easier to overlook now that they had been returned to him. A quick glance at the slumbering bees beside him on the bed told him that nothing else had changed, which managed to keep him calm as he sat up.

"Fleur, go get my stuff, I'm ready to start the day." He pointed at the floor, not really thinking about it; as far as he was concerned, it was just another ordinary morning.

As the bee jumped off the bed to obey her master's command, a loud mechanical chirp resonated from her neck. _"OK!"_

"What the hell!?" As Ricktus watched her every movement, he was a mix of confusion and suspicion. "Is this some kind of prank? How are you talking?"

 _"I've been able to since the day I emerged from my brooder cell,"_ the bee dragged the metallic limbs across the floor towards him. _"It's not my fault that that you can't understand me."_ She sat on her haunches and tilted her head to one side, staring back at him with unblinking compound eyes. _"It's yours."_

Ricktus snatched up his limbs and clicked them into his biomechanical junctures without a second thought. "Stay there, I want to see what that damn idiot did to you..." He took a singular step away from the bed and went down with a loud crashing thud. "He messed with these too!?"

" _You did it. You should know."_ The bee seemed confused as she crawled over to her master and licked the side of his face. _"Why did you create something and not give it the ability to speak like you? Is it an act of superiority like a god, or are you being a dick?"_

Ricktus hauled himself to a seated position and reached over to pat the bee on the head. When his hand brushed against the collar on her neck, he discovered the translator that Rick had stolen from the Korblock dimension. A quick inspection of the device told him that it had been modified, and now it was strategically resting against her throat. "Oh, right." He paused, frowning. "I'm not a god, Fleur. Wait, out of all the things you could ask me, that's what you wanted to know?"

" _Yes."_ The bee continued to stare at him, expressionless. _"Why would you create me to be inferior? Why do I exist?"_

"I'm surprised you have such complex thought processes..." Ricktus seemed troubled by what she was saying. "Have you always thought this way? Great, just what we needed around here... another lifeform questioning their own existence."

 _"I do not hate you for it,"_ Fleur's collar buzzed as she idly groomed herself. _"I just want to know why."_

"Why indeed..." The doctor muttered in reply; it was something he'd never be able to simplify and it was easier to just brush it off. Instead, he made an uncoordinated attempt to stand and glared down at his attachments, seeming more interested in them; they were still as he remembered, yet were wrong somehow. While the casing still looked more or less the same, the ankles had been tarnished with fresh welding marks and it only took him a second to work out that major modifications had been made during his time asleep.

"Asshole... I-I didn't give him permission to do this!" He took three steps towards the door and promptly met with the floor again. Instead of calling for help, he struggled to his feet and forced himself through his morning routine; he'd already called his assistant far too many times and his desire to remain independent was more important to him.

By the time he was ready and at the terminal hub, he was late to work and had fallen down again more than a dozen times along the way. He did his best to act like nothing was wrong as he passed by Surgeon Rick's table.

"What are you even doing here?" The doctor thumped him in the shoulder the moment he was close enough. "You're supposed to be resting. Do I have to kick your ass?"

"I'm boooorrrred," Surgeon Rick made a point of whining out the vowels. "I gotta keep my mind engaged. There's only so much crap you can watch on TV before your brains turn to mush. I figured if I can't run around, then I might as well get something done at the desk, y'know?" He held up the dead parasite he had been dissecting before his boss arrived. "Has the Council ever thought to weaponize the shit we come across? I bet you could do a whole lot of damage if you released a bunch of these somewhere."

"I'd suggest you lodge it as an idea, but someone probably already has," Ricktus shrugged his shoulders as he headed towards his workstation. "Remember, everyone at HQ thinks like y-" He didn't finish the sentence as he went down, making abrupt contact with the floor.

Surgeon Rick dropped what he was doing and swiveled around in his chair. "You OK over there?" He had to bite his lower lip to smother a snicker out of respect; now would have been a bad time to laugh, especially over such a touchy subject.

"I'm fine..." The doctor hissed in reply as he shakily stood up, bracing himself on a nearby chair for support. "B-526 fucked with my shit and I don't even know why. I didn't ask for it and I didn't want him to do anything. I'm almost certain he did it just to spite me."

"You think?" Surgeon Rick pondered the suggestion thoughtfully. "I dunno about that. When I approached him, he kinda implied he was gonna make them better. Why don't you walk around for a while and get used to them?"

"I don't WANT to get used to them," Ricktus adamantly declared, "I want them back the way they were!"

"Hah, I don't think that's gonna happen, boss. I was there when he was pulling them apart, you should have seen how much broken shit came outta them. Just give it a chance, OK?" Surgeon Rick leaned back in his chair and sighed; being the mediator wasn't a position he enjoyed very much, but he thought the whole thing was stupid.

"Why didn't you stop him!?" Ricktus turned on him. "Why don't you-" He took a singular step towards the surgeon and was on the floor again.

"Look," Surgeon Rick was on his feet and stood over his boss as he offered a hand of help out towards him. "I get where you're coming from, I really do. I-it's like a violation of your property, but... I don't think he did this to be a dick. I think he just... does stuff like that? It's hard to explain."

Ricktus mumbled under his breath as he took his assistant's hand and hauled himself to his feet once again. "Your priorities and loyalties are becoming awfully concerning, C-711..."

Surgeon Rick rolled his eyes and chose to let the obvious jab pass; reacting to it would have been entirely counterproductive. "Just shut up and go walk around until you get used to it. If you hate it so bad, you can always go and yell at him until he changes it back, right?"

The doctor gave a resigning sigh as he stepped away; he could see no reason to argue. "Fine... but if he doesn't listen, then you're going to make him."

Surgeon Rick had to laugh now. "Really? I can't make anyone do anything, least of all you!"

Ricktus's only reply was a grumbly mutter as he turned around and headed towards the exit. "Shut up and get back to work..."

* * *

Despite feeling like he was constantly losing balance and fumbling just about every step like a drunkard or a child learning to walk, the doctor persisted in staying vertical out of stubborn determination. Several practiced minutes of walking didn't make it easier and he was forced to use the wall as support. He knew he was going to bruise badly from all his trips to the ground and it only served to sour his mood as he finally gave up and decided to seek out Rick to give him a piece of his mind.

He couldn't waste energy on wandering around the ship to look for him while he was so useless, so he found his datapad's location through the ship's positioning system. After following the map straight into the barracks area of the ship, he forced the scientist's door open and staggered into the room.

Morty looked up from his hoard of toys and immediately retreated to the bunk bed, screaming the entire way. After clambering up the side, he dove for the comfort of his grandfather.

"Thanks for knocking." Rick idly lifted his arm to scoop Morty up against his side, then turned the page of the book he was reading, not bothering to get up; he was taking time out to spend with his grandson because his presence kept him calm, and because the constant ache under his ribs was much more bearable while he relaxed.

"I'm only returning the favor!" Ricktus snapped back at him. "Why the hell did you mess with my prosthetics?"

"You said you can't run," Rick did not look up and rested one arm behind his head. "Now you can."

"I didn't say you could do that!" Both of the doctor's hands clenched into fists in his anger. "How am I supposed to run when I can barely walk as it is?!"

"Well," Rick finally looked up from his book, his expression completely flat and unimpressed. "All you do is put one leg in front of the other and move really fast-"

"You know that's NOT what I meant!" Ricktus yelled over the top of him. "You're going to get up off your ass and fix this, or I'm going to-"

"What? Get mad and cry? Lock me up here again?" Rick made a soft noise of mockery as he turned another page. "Stand there and make me suffer by listening to you? Do your worst."

"At least fix what you did!" Ricktus demanded. "I can barely move around without crashing into something. You literally had no reason to mess with my stuff unless you were trying to be a dick, and if that wasn't your motive then I don't know what the hell you were thinking. If this is your idea of trying to be helpful, then you've failed at it!"

"Is it up too high?" Rick finally sat up and put the book aside. "If you can't cope with the sensitivity setting, I can reconfigure the fine motor servos. All the bipedal robots I've built never gave this kind of feedback, but they weren't whiny bitches like you."

"I'm not a robot!" Ricktus objected.

"Interesting that that's the one you chose to react to." Rick pointed to his kneecaps. "From there down you are. No wonder why it hurt so bad when you kneed me in the balls. You could have ruptured one of them." He reached back to pat Morty on the head before moving off the bed. "Hang back here, buddy."

"Would you stop bringing that up?" Ricktus was about say more, but Rick was already on the floor beside him with a screwdriver and pulling at the cuffs of his pants. He elected to stay silent and watched on as the scientist pried open the maintenance hatches to adjust the mechanisms inside his attachments. He stumbled back after it was done, still feeling particularly annoyed about the whole thing.

"Better?" Rick pocketed his screwdriver and stood up again. "Now that you have high-shock hydraulic suspension instead of gears, you can do anything you want... hop, skip, sneak, jump around, w-whatever. You'll get used to it in no time. Now go away."

"I still don't understand why you would bother," Ricktus began to cautiously pace, though he was already considerably more coordinated on his feet than he had been earlier. "You had nothing to gain out of it."

"Sure I did," Rick shrugged as he sat back down on the bed. "It might give me some leverage in an argument, and it'll stop you from complaining. Besides, now you can actually run away from stuff. It's a legitimate strategy, and it's saved me more than a few times. If you can't run, you die."

Ricktus frowned at the statement; he wasn't actually wrong. "You shouldn't have equipped Fleur with the translator. I get why you did it, but all she wanted to do was ask me the reason for her existence."

"That's kinda your fault for endowing them with your intelligence." Rick picked up his book again and opened it to where he had left off. "You don't wanna find out what it knows? I already tried, but... some of the shit it said made even less sense than a Squanch."

Ricktus seemed a little worried. "What did you ask her?"

"I asked it why there were so many of them hanging around," Rick seemed bored as he answered, "I figured it was a simple question, but all it kept going on about was food. Almost everything was... I asked it where the ship controls were, and if it saw what attacked your ship. All it mentioned was food. I don't think they're as smart as you think they are."

"There has to be more to it... they'll eat anything, but they're not food obsessed." Ricktus muttered thoughtfully. "Unless they think of each other as food?"

"Have fun deciphering what it all means." Rick finally lay back down and made himself comfortable. "Maybe you can use the dumb bee to get near your cloning facility and find out why they wanna keep you away from it."

"I gave up on that avenue a long time ago... it only ended in failure. Besides, the Council has since given me a better offer." Ricktus glared at him. "Why does my ship and my colony concern you so much? This is my reality, not yours."

"All the dimensional variances are interesting," Rick admitted. "I wonder if the choices you made led to all of this. Maybe the culprits were tracking your brainwaves? I'm just thinking out loud here, but I bet you're part way responsible for what happened, even if you were just an unwitting factor in it."

Ricktus grunted in discontentment. "That thought already crossed my mind... but it's just speculation. I doubt I'll ever know, even with the translator on Fleur's collar. What the hell would she be able to tell me? She was with me in the medi-bay when everything got destroyed."

Rick made a tired sigh and sat up again. "Well you're never gonna find out with that kind of attitude. How would you go about getting into the rest of the ship?"

"You couldn't. The air content of the non-oxygenated sections is harmful," the doctor huffily explained. "The amount of carbon dioxide alone would make you pass out, and then the other gases would kill you. You would need to take your own oxygen supply in there."

"Gee, i-if only there were some kind of environment suit people use to move around in space, right?" Rick was suddenly smug. "You're on a fucking spaceship after all."

Ricktus loudly hissed in realization of Rick's words. "I actually hate you right now! Why didn't I think of that?!"

Rick chuckled as he moved off the bed, picking up Morty as he went, forgetting all about the reasons he had come into the room to relax in the first place. "So how long until you find something appropriate?"

"Oh, you think you're coming with me?" The doctor stared at him incredulously. "You thought wrong!"

"It's my idea, so you owe it to me." As Rick stood at the door, the smug smirk grew wider across his face. "See you in the corridor in ten minutes?"

* * *

After leaving Morty with Surgeon Rick in the terminal hub, Rick impatiently waited around to see if the doctor would deliver on his suggestion. When he saw Ricktus and the two servant insects coming towards him with spherical-bulb helmets and oxygen tanks, the scientist couldn't help but feel surprised; after putting up so much resistance and denying him access to parts of the ship before, Rick could only conclude that he was willingly allowing him to see the rest of it now because he was going to accompany him. He wasn't going to question it though; his curiosity was driving him insane by the time he was handed the breathing equipment and he hastily put it on.

Ricktus immediately took the opportunity to pace around his charge to check if his lines were secure, then turned his oxygen tank on. "I'm half tempted to turn your oxygen delivery up slightly higher than normal," he muttered aloud. "If your red cell count is still low, you'll soon know about it if you overexert yourself again... oxygen therapy has proven to be useful in those circumstances, but," he stood in front of the other and jabbed him in the chest with a pointed finger as he narrowed his eyes, his tone becoming firm. "The second you show signs of illness again, I'm sending you back to the portal hub. Do you understand me?"

"I'll be fine." Rick huffed as he took two steps back, then distracted himself by taking his datapad out of his coat pocket. "This thing still has a map on it. I say head for the bridge and go from there."

"You wouldn't have the clearance and neither do I. I can lead you into the methane-dominant parts of the ship, but I could only get so far myself. I have a much better idea," Ricktus turned around and crouched down beside one of his insects. "Fleur, where would you go? Have you been anywhere that looks particularly important?"

Fleur stared back at her master with expressionless eyes; she had only had a vague concept of important places. _"Your territory."_ Her collar translated the answer as she buzzed her wings. _"Only the chosen few may go there."_

Rick made a loud disgusted snort. "Wow... great idea, dumbass. It's a wonder you don't have a bigger ego, o-or a god complex for what those stupid insects think of you. Us. Uh... whatever." He shook the datapad. "Computer, gimmie a map, I'll manually navigate the way there." Without waiting for a response, he moved ahead and began to lead the way.

The initial journey was made in silence as the scientist navigated the corridors and headed into the damaged parts of the ship, though he had to turn around when he heard the unsubtle mechanical thuds behind him, only to witness the sight of Ricktus actually enjoying himself as he bounced around on his feet much like a child at play. While it should have been worthy of mockery, Rick chose not to; he knew the doctor was testing out the adjustments he'd made and discovering his new degrees of mobility. Although he'd complained before, he was already demonstrating his willingness to adapt to the new circumstances.

It was definitely very 'Rick' of him.

"Having fun back there?" Rick asked as he turned back and kept leading the way with a subtle grin on his face; even if he didn't particularly like this Rick very much, the thought of giving back some of his usefulness actually made him feel good about himself.

"Now that I'm getting used to it, I think I might need you to adjust the sensitivity again," Ricktus quickly answered. "My gait cycle is fine, but actually having ankles is... weird. They're springy."

"They're supposed to be. In fact, having hydraulic suspension in your ankles would probably allow you to run faster than a regular old boring Rick. If it really bothers you that much, I'll show you how to make further adjustments for yourself." Rick turned a corner and stopped in front of a set of airlock doors. "Then you might actually be able to do your job properly instead of sending your minions to do your dirty work."

"Are you still bitter about that?" Ricktus grumpily sighed. "I'm not apologizing for saving your life."

"I'm just saying, now you can do your job better than you could before." Rick replied. "E-even though I could probably pretty much run circles around you and do it better than you ever could... I-I mean look what happened with that Rick in the Korblock dimension. Without me, you would have crashed and burned."

"Please... don't discredit my entire job just because you got lucky one time." Ricktus made a loud grunt, actually insulted by the notion. "Even if you were Council approved and trained for the role, you still wouldn't know what to do if a Rick had a meltdown or started bleeding out on you. There's a good reason why Riq IV appoints medically inclined Ricks for the task. We've... seen some shit."

"Isn't most of it improvising?" Rick shrugged. "Give me time to learn the rest... how hard could it be? Given enough time, even your sorry ass would be able to learn how to build robots and all kinds of crazy crap if you actually put your mind to it."

"I have no interest in building stupid robots..." Ricktus nodded ahead of them. "Dead end? Are you stuck?"

"Nope," Rick furrowed his brows in thought as he glanced at the datapad map, then punched in Surgeon Rick's door code. "I'm doin' pretty good, actually."

The airlock popped open without delay, releasing a copious quantity of dense green fog that sank to the floor and flooded around their feet.

"Nice to see C-711 gave you that too." Ricktus grumpily muttered. "What else should I know about you two?"

"There isn't anything to tell other than he's pathetic, and that Morty kinda likes him." Rick shrugged as he stepped into the dim glowing light beyond the doorway. "Out of all the friends I've had, he's the most recent."

The area beyond the door was heavily polluted with atmospheric gases and just about every wall was coated with the same wax-like substance that the bees had used to seal and repair the rest of the ship. It looked more an alien landscape than the inside of a ship; columns of green bioluminescent wax dripped from the ceiling, while worker bees were busy feeding young in brooder cells stuck along the walls.

They completely ignored the new arrivals in their territory.

"What happened here...?" Ricktus scowled as he glanced upwards, taking the scene in. "Why have you expanded into this part of the ship? Is there really that many of you? What is the hive even eating to sustain this kind of population size? There were only six of you in the beginning!"

 _"Food,"_ Fleur's collar replied as she followed behind her master. _"Food everywhere."_

"See, I told you they're stupid," Rick grunted in irritation as he pushed his way through the room. As his shoes squelched through the ankle-high dense muck that lined the floor, he quickened his pace, feeling disgusted. "What the hell is this stuff?"

Fleur raised her head up towards the leader of the pack. _"Excrement."_

"Gross! That's fucking disgusting!" Rick angrily declared as he rushed towards the next door, wanting to spend the minimize the amount of time he had to deal with it.

"Yeah, makes sense... where did you think it was going to go?" Ricktus softly chuckled. "What's wrong, B-526? Walking in bee shit wasn't on your list of things to do today? You can turn back any time you know, you're the one who wanted to come."

Rick's only reply was a growl as he opened the next door, his attention on the datapad; the circular structure towards in the middle of the map was larger than all the other parts of the ship and he had a hunch that it was where he needed to go.

Further through the corridors of the hive, Rick finally understood just why they'd needed to carry in their own oxygen; the atmospheric fog only became more dense and reduced visibility. By the time he made it to the last door, it was more like being immersed in the middle of thick cloud.

"Is this metabolic waste produced by the hive?" Ricktus frowned as he took out his own datapad. "Computer, analyze the air content around us."

"Working," the computer replied, and then went silent. "Current atmospheric conditions include: Methane, 35.8%. Hydrogen sulfide, 28.9%. Carbon dioxide, 15.5%. Oxygen, 9.1%. Twelve other gases exist in trace amounts."

"Holy shit..." Ricktus mumbled in surprise. "That... shouldn't be."

"Sounds like a giant flame pinata if you ask me." Rick finally punched in the last door code and stood back, but nothing happened. "Y-yeah, now I'm stuck."

Fleur moved ahead to stand beside him. _"Let me help you with that, maker."_

"Wrong Rick," Rick pointed across to the doctor, "I wouldn't bother throwing a bunch of random insects into a tank and creating something so fucking messed up."

 _"Is that why I exist? For your amusement?"_ Fleur's collar chirped as she climbed the wall. " _You are a dick."_ She aggressively bit down on the door console and began to tear it apart with her powerful set of jaws. After exposing the electronics inside, she used her tongue to delicately extract two bare wires and coat them with sticky syrup, activating the circuit required to trigger the door mechanism.

The doors to the circular room swung open with a loud hiss.

"Not so dumb now, are they?" Ricktus chuckled. As he moved ahead of the scientist, he gently rapped a finger against the viewing window of his bulbous helmet. "Don't be so quick to judge." He took two steps into the room and stopped dead, his mirth evaporating entirely. "O-oh my god..."

"What?" Rick peered around his shoulder and was met with the same sight; the scene which greeted them was pure chaos.

What used to be the ship's central command station was now total carnage; the walls and ceiling of the large room were peppered in carbonized plasma scorch marks and the room looked like it had been the focal point of a heated firefight. Haphazardly strewn across the floor and computer consoles were the corpses of multiple alien workers in various states states of consumption; more than half of them had been partially eaten. They still lay in the positions they had been killed and their bodies were preserved in opaque crystallized syrup from the hive.

"Huh," Rick tentatively walked into the room and took three steps towards the nearest corpse; an alien slumped over at its battle station. "I'm pretty sure this is what they've been snacking on since you left." He stood behind the chair and ran a hand across the surface of the crystallized substance. "Want some alien rock candy?"

It was obvious that the doctor was still stunned by what he was seeing as he cautiously paced around the oval table in the middle of the room, just staring at everything as he took it all in. "I'd still like to know what they were running from..."

Rick turned around and glanced at the battle tactics still laid out on the middle of the table and moved cover to take a closer look; they were left exactly as they were the moment the crew had died. While he recognized some of the strategic battle orders from his days in the resistance, as he went through more of the paperwork they suggested plans of attack, rather than of defense. "Uh... bro," he loudly cleared his throat to get the other Rick's attention. "I don't wanna do the 'you might wanna see this' cliche, but you might wanna see this."

Ricktus moved to stand beside the scientist as he continued to rifle through the papers; some of the ones underneath were attack orders for the mercenaries on the ship, while others detailed planetary orbits and species population invasion strategies.

"Uh, not to be the bearer of bad news here, but I don't think your guys were running away at all." Rick muttered.

Ricktus frowned silently; he did not have a reply.


	25. A Rickful of Bad Ideas

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. Please see earlier chapters for more legal waffle.

 **NOTE:** Sorry this chapter was/is a little late. Wanted to make sure it was 100% before putting it out there. It's also pretty full-on and involved. Keep them reviews coming, I love all your opinions and comments!

* * *

 _Just when you think you're in control  
_ _Just when you think you've got a hold  
_ _Just when you get on a roll  
_ _Here it goes, here it goes,_

 _Here it goes again_

 _\- Here It Goes Again - OK Go_

* * *

 **Chapter 25 – A Rickful of Bad Ideas**

 **December 2nd, 9:52am , Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316**

* * *

"So you were working for the goddamn dictator of your dimension the whole time," as Rick looked up at the doctor, his expression became highly suspicious. "That seems like a pretty fucking major detail to gloss over, don't you think?"

"I-I didn't know!" Ricktus sputtered back, still emotionally charged from the discovery. "Look at my career choices, Rick... I prefer not to kill things if I can help it. Do you honestly think I would have stayed here had I known differently? It doesn't even matter now because, well, take a look around you... not a good time to believe in crystal healing. They're all very, very dead."

"Yeah," Rick dropped the papers he was holding and glared daggers at the other Rick. "So is most sentient life within the local galaxy system in your dimension. You're lucky your own planet didn't bite the big one too!" He turned on his dimensional double and aggressively shoved him in the chest with both hands. "Working for the tyrant makes you as bad as the Gromflomites themselves!"

"Don't compare my dimensional problems to yours, B-526!" Ricktus made a loud frustrated snarl as he momentarily lost his balance, then moved right back in to shove Rick in return. "Why do you even care? I didn't have anything to do with this and if I knew what was going down, then I probably would have bailed on it! I just told you that!"

Rick struggled not to screw his face up; the sudden trauma caused near-blinding pain to explode in his ribcage and his vision swam in and out of focus as he stumbled backwards to recover. "J-just seems awfully convenient, y'know...?" He panted through a blatantly accusatory tone. "How... h-how could you be so blind? Even if you didn't know what you were walking into, there must have been signs..."

"Do you think I was paying attention?!" Ricktus barked out the words so loud that they echoed off the inside of his helmet. "I was a fucking lowly medic and far more preoccupied with doing anything I could to get my grandson back! I-is that what you want to hear!?"

Rick just glowered at him as he stiffened in a pained posture, hugging himself around the middle.

"Holy shit," the doctor seemed to realize what he'd done and his arms dropped to his sides. "Did I actually hurt you? I didn't even hit you that hard." Although he regretted his actions, he was more interested in getting further details. "Can you describe what you're feeling? Are you nauseous? Where exactly does it hurt the most?"

"D-don't dodge the issue..." Rick hissed back at him through gritted teeth. "Even by providing medical attention to the assholes on this ship, you were still helping them..."

"Goddamn it, stop saying it, I fucking get it!" Ricktus attempted to pinch his brow, but his hand only met glass. He turned his head away instead and exhaled a loud sigh, which served to calm him slightly. "I don't really know what to think, but I'm not surprised. I've been to more than enough realities to know that things are fucked up no matter where you go. I knew my dimension had problems so I guess it's only predictable that these idiots were the cause of them."

"You sound surprisingly OK with this..."

"I'm not, but... there's nothing I can do about it." Ricktus quietly admitted as he turned around again and began to roll up the pile of battle plans on the table. "All I can do now is take this stuff to the Council. At the very least, maybe there's something they can learn from it."

Rick just stood there and clutched at his midsection with both hands, unwilling to move for the time being; he felt as bad as he did during the time the bird woman had hugged him and worse, the pain wasn't subsiding. "This is just one room... w-who knows what other shit you're gonna find out there..."

"I'll deal with it," Ricktus replied curtly. "I still don't know why you care so much, it's not even your problem. If it surprises you, then you need to keep dimension hopping until it doesn't." He paused in thought. "Are you annoyed that I didn't take a proactive stance against this like you did in your reality? Because look how well that worked out for you."

"F-fuck you!" Rick sharply retorted.

"Believe it or not, Rick, not all of us can be like you," the doctor finished up what he was doing and tucked the rolled up battle plans under both of his arms. "We can't all parade around the universe sticking it to the man and liberating the helpless masses. Some of us exist for different purposes."

Rick snorted in disgust. "I-is that how you're gonna pitch it? Blame the shittiness of your reality on your mediocrity and incompetence...?"

"I'm not incompetent," Ricktus's voice dipped low in warning. "All of this happened independently of me. I mean, I barely had anything to do with it. There's no point trying trying to explain it either, sometimes shit just happens." He gave a small shrug of his shoulders; although the state of the ship's central command station posed more questions than it answered, he'd already accepted it. "This changes nothing. I'm still going to work here and finish what I started. This is still my ship, my hive," he shifted the roll of papers onto one arm and pointed to one of the crystallized corpses slumped over at its battle station, "and now my dead aliens, I guess."

"Yeah, your pile of garbage, maybe." Rick growled back at him. "You know, the Council was right about one thing... you're pathetic, a-and you're always going to be while you resign yourself to this place. There's gotta be a better way to get what you want. You still think you're safe here? What happens if the toxic atmosphere leaks into the rest of the ship? Then there's looters and shit that would shoot at you just for fun. Who knows what's lurking out there in the local sector of space."

"Hypotheticals," Ricktus brushed it off with a wave of his hand. "Yawn."

"You know the Council can keep you on the hook forever by never giving you enough money for what you want, right? Your lackey already kinda suggested you get paid a pittance for this shit." He knew he'd launched into a rambling tirade by now, but didn't care. "And you're not even good at it. I mean, you needed me to pull your ass out of danger. I-I bet I could do your job with both arms tied behind my back."

Ricktus made a loud noise of disapproval. "No you couldn't."

"Wanna bet?" Rick challenged in reply, his tone suddenly cocky and condescending.

"Rick, in your current state, you couldn't do shit." Ricktus rolled his eyes; he'd clearly had enough of him by now. "You really need to sort out your priorities. You're more concerned with my state of affairs and a bunch of aliens you've never met over yourself?" He reached into his coat to produce his portal gun. "The fact that you're still holding yourself like you're trying to keep your guts in place is probably because your internal organs are finally starting to liquefy from the plasma radiation exposure. Why don't you retire to your room? I have stuff to finish up here, but I'll come and examine you as soon as I'm done."

"Go to hell!" Rick loudly declared. "I-I still think you're wrong on that one."

"And you were wrong about being fine. You don't exactly look like a perfect picture of health right now." the doctor's tone became cold as he fired a portal at the space directly behind his charge, then stepped forward push him through it. "Bye." After the deed was done, he turned to face the insect that had been patiently waiting nearby the entire time and dropped the battle plans in front of her. "Well, now that you can talk back to me, look around for more of those and tell me what you find."

The worker bee promptly scuttled away to obey her master's command.

* * *

After abruptly landing on the floor just beyond the ship's portal hub, Rick needed time to lie there and deal with the agonizing pain coursing through his chest. When he decided that it was going to remain constant, he stubbornly forced himself to his feet and discarded his helmet and breathing equipment, swearing under his breath with each movement. Once properly standing, he staggered towards the terminal hub and silently fumed the entire way; despite having been warned that his feelings of well being were only going to be temporary, he'd been fine until Ricktus touched him.

By the time he'd made it to the doorway of the giant room, he was angrily cursing and barely able to hold himself from collapsing. He dragged his feet across the floor as he headed towards Surgeon Rick's table, then heavily sank down in one of the nearby chairs, still hugging himself around the middle.

Morty was the first one to notice and acknowledged his presence with a loud joyful squeal as he began to climb over the side of his crib. "R-r-riiii!"

Rick managed to give him a small grin through the pain. "Hey, buddy... d-don't do that, OK? We've been over this before..."

Morty ignored his advice as he hurled himself to the floor in his enthusiasm, then bounded over to hug his grandfather around the legs. If the fall had hurt him, he certainly didn't show it; he was just happy to see his favorite person again.

Surgeon Rick looked up from his batch of microscope slides. "Ah, great..." He was on his feet at once and stood over the other male, his brow set in a stern frown. "The fuck happened to you now?"

"I-I think I need to take you up on that drug offer..." Rick admitted as his expression hardened, trying to cover for how bad he felt.

Surgeon Rick didn't even hesitate as he swung around again and moved away to open the drawers under his table. "Sure, bro. Got anything specific in mind?" It was spoken more for the purpose of making conversation than an actual question; it gave him an opportunity to stall and to assess his patient while he sifted through the clutter.

"Anything..." Rick huddled forwards in his posture. "I just don't want this any more."

Surgeon Rick made a thoughtful hum, then pulled a rectangular bottle of ominous looking brown liquid from the bottom of the drawer. "This stuff will knock you dead if you let it. I use it for migraines when nothing else works. It's overkill, but it'll destroy pretty much anything." He set it down in front of the scientist and moved away to look for a medicine cup.

Rick snatched up the bottle, tore the cap off, and began liberally drinking the contents without even bothering to read the label. A harsh bitterness assaulted his tongue and throat the whole way down, but he didn't care; he was willing to do anything to mute the pain.

Surgeon Rick turned around once he'd found what he was looking for and made a soft irritated sigh at the sight opposite him. "Well, OK then, just don't overdo it. That shit's seriously easy to get addicted to."

"Uh-huh," Rick burped as he recapped the bottle and stuffed it into his lab coat pocket for safekeeping. "Don't care."

"Fuckin' moron." It was only a half-assed cuff. "So did you find what you were looking for? And are you gonna keep using me as a dumping ground for your Morty every time you wanna go somewhere?"

Rick chose not to answer the second question. "We discovered a bunch of dead shit out there. Looks like your boss has more skeletons in his closet than one of those dumb haunted house rides." His attention diverted towards the nearby terminals, suddenly interested in them as his mind went in a different direction entirely. "You might wanna consider abandoning ship as soon as possible. There's just too many hazards here and you're wide open to getting looted."

Surgeon took his place in the chair at his workstation again. "Yeah, right... we're in the middle of bumfuck nowhere."

"Doesn't matter," Rick shrugged as he finally sat up again; the active ingredient in the medicine was already doing its job and the pain in his chest was lessening by the second. "If there's free shit to be had, you can sure as hell bet that somebody's gonna take it. I-it's only a matter of time!"

"I'll take my chances." Surgeon Rick yawned with boredom, then resumed looking over his batch of slides; he figured that his charge's mood swing was a good sign and was no longer concerned. "How do you know the ship hasn't been looted already? If anything even came close to us then the proximity alarm would go off. Hasn't happened in the year I've been here, isn't likely to happen either. Besides," he pulled out his Council-issue portal gun, "I can just fuck off if the shit ever hits the fan."

Although Rick knew the surgeon deserved a much more detailed explanation of what had been discovered, his attention was fully on the terminals now; he hadn't forgotten the earlier conversation with Ricktus about being able to do his job better than him, and now he had all the tools at his disposal to find any Rick in the multiverse, including the Council's most wanted.

He could prove just how much better he could do the job, and he was already convincing himself that he could bring back another one alive.

Surgeon Rick momentarily glanced up at his charge, taking his silence and attentiveness as another indicator that he was feeling better. "You gonna hang around here and add to your reports for the Council?"

"Something like that." Rick's reply was a distracted mumble as he picked Morty up and took him to the computer he had been working at previously. Once seated, he set the young boy in his lap and got stuck into the database to look for highly desired Ricks. He was immediately rewarded with twenty urgent case files along with information detailing how dangerous they were likely to be, as well as potential risk factors.

After listing them in order of priority, he waited impatiently while the screen compiled a list of the top five: B-589, C-116, C-137, C-139, and C-153.

He leaned back in the chair to make himself comfortable; the pain in his chest had almost subsided and he silently thanked himself for having the sense to hold onto the bottle of medicine he'd been given. Even as he began to read, he knew he had to be quick about the Rick he selected for retrieval; Ricktus was likely to return from the central command station at any given moment and he didn't want to be around if that happened.

He picked one in haste and spent all but five minutes reading, figuring he could make up the rest up as he went along.

"I-I gotta go," Rick said suddenly as he closed the file and turned to face his dimensional counterpart again. "Can you take care of Morty for me real quick?"

Surgeon Rick let out a frustrated groan as he put down an eyedropper he had been using to work with. By the time he looked up, the scientist was already standing beside his chair. "What is it this time?"

"You remember how you said that if I ever needed anything done you'd cover for me, no questions asked? Well, I wanna use that now." Rick quickly explained. "I need you to watch Morty until I get back, a-and I don't want you asking about it. Got it?"

"Un-fuckin'-believable... it's like you don't know how to learn." Surgeon Rick stared at him in disbelief. "Why are you doing this again? Do you like torturing yourself?"

Rick ignored his protests and dropped Morty into his lap. "I'll be back in an hour, maybe two at most." He hesitated, then added to his statement in the attempt to reassure the other. "I'm not gonna be running around doing anything stupid."

"You better fuckin' not!" Surgeon Rick chastised him. "You think I wanna pull your dumb ass to safety again? You need to stay here. You're goddamn crazy if you go anywhere in that state!"

Rick actually agreed with him; it was sound logic and he knew that he should be staying put on the ship. However, he was being driven by a different motive now – his own ego. "You still sound surprised about that."

"Don't be a smartass." Surgeon Rick gritted his teeth. "Not even ten minutes ago you were barely functional and you're gonna be like that again once that good shit wears off. You're seriously gonna do this to yourself again?"

"Yeah," Rick grunted, "I told you not to ask questions. Just do the stupid bro-code thing and shut up about it. I'll be back before you know it."

As Surgeon Rick sat there, he knew full well that he should keep pushing the issue. After a few moments of silent deliberation, he turned away and reluctantly conceded defeat; Rick had stayed true to his word and never mentioned his more unsavory habits to his boss. He stood to lose a great deal of privileges and possibly even his job if he didn't reciprocate the same courtesy of remaining silent. "Fine, but... no more favors."

Rick nodded in agreement and briskly walked across the room to steal the brainwave detector from Ricktus's table. Once it was secured in his lab coat, he exited the room again, still completely confident that he could bring back his elected candidate alive. All the logic and reasoning in the universe wouldn't be able to stop him this time and despite being the smartest thing alive, he still had one major factor going against him - he was a stubborn asshole with something to prove.

* * *

 **December 2nd, 8:20pm, Local Time, 2001  
The Deep Hole Tavern, Muskegon, MI  
Earth, Dimension C-139**

* * *

The unpleasant chill of a winter's night was more than apparent as Rick stepped out the other side of the portal and straight onto the street outside of a dreary run-down bar. A light dusting of snow covered the pavement and he needed a moment to stand there and take in his surroundings; it had been so long since he'd seen planet Earth that it was jarring to the senses. People ignorantly moved through the area around him and everything looked as it should have, completely average and untouched as if nothing had ever happened there.

Rick reminded himself that nothing ever had as he pushed the front door open.

Inside, he encountered more of the same. The establishment's wood paneled walls were heavily yellowed with years of cigarette tar abuse, while the decor was very reminiscent of the 70s and definitely the kind of seedy bar he might have visited in his days as a younger man. While the stench of ashtray and stale beer hung heavily in the air, it wasn't actually a bad thing; it only added to the mundane ambiance of the place.

The scientist promptly discovered that he didn't even need to use the brainwave detector as he perched on a barstool at the main counter; his intended target was already visible from a booth in the far corner, his spiky blue unkempt hair making him so obvious that he couldn't have been anyone else.

Acting casual, Rick leaned forward to rest both arms on the bar and stared off into nothingness as he mentally visualized the steps ahead. According to the case file, this Rick wasn't flagged as potentially dangerous, so he was unlikely to put up a fight or shoot him; it was only a matter of working through how to approach him. While he couldn't deny the effectiveness of the doctor's abduction strategy, he was still bitter over it and wanted to prove him wrong. Giving their last target information right off the bat had been well received before, so he was entirely willing to try it again.

When the bartender distracted him from his thoughts by asking for an order, he waved him off; as much as he wanted to drink, he'd come here with only one purpose in mind. It must have caught the other Rick's attention, because he barely had time to turn around when he heard the sound of his own gravelly slurred voice behind him.

"Y-you... you got a lotta nerve showing up here uninvited."

Before Rick could say or do anything else, the other Rick set his mug of beer on the counter and drunkenly sank onto the barstool beside him, adopting a similar posture. The scientist's first observation was his choice of attire – they were wearing the exact same articles of clothing, which might have been strange to the people around them. His next observation was the heavy weariness this Rick seemed to carry, almost like he was worn down by his life's decisions, or perhaps he had given up on life itself.

Maybe it was both.

"What's wrong? Not enough shitty bars in your own dimension?" The Rick tilted his head in inquisition and looked at him with unfocused bloodshot eyes. "I dunno why you're here, but I don't want it. Go away..."

"You're actually in a lot of trouble right now," Rick launched into the explanation in a hushed voice, wanting to disclose as much as he could from the case file straight away. "Look, I don't know how much you know about yourself on alternate timelines, but there's a collective bunch of assholes who gather information on Ricks like me and you. I only have limited intel, but you need to leave as soon as possible. Someone here wants you dead, and they want it bad... you wanna let that happen?"

The Rick was silent as he processed the information and his expression shifted from surprised to deep suspicion, not sure what to make of it. "H-how... do you know?" He picked up his mug again and took a tentative sip of beer. "Who?"

"Don't have a clue," Rick muttered in reply. "All I know is that you're marked for death unless you get the fuck outta here. We got a lot of enemies out there, you and I. Although there's places you can go to get away from it, I'm not one of them and I'm not here to recruit you. I mean, you could just as feasibly keep yourself safe if you don't stay in one place too long. You got family you can gather up and take off with?"

The other Rick slowly nodded his head in acceptance as the words were spoken. At the mention of family, he made a soft sarcastic sound and tilted his head back to down the rest of his beer. "H-haven't seen 'em in-UURRPP years. F-fuck them..." He angrily slammed the empty mug back down on the counter.

"Whatever." Rick shrugged as he subtly turned his head to watch the other bar patrons for even the slightest sign of hostility; he looked just like his target and now he didn't trust them either. "I don't know which one of these fuckers is planning to end you, but it doesn't matter. All you gotta know is that you can't stay here."

The other Rick half-closed his eyes, far too drunk to care much about the situation. Instead, he made a soft groan and ran a hand through his hair. "Probably that fuckin' gambling debt again... shit."

"Screw it," Rick hissed, figuring his proposal could go either way. "Once you leave this place, i-it's wiped forever. You think they can get you if you're in another dimension?" A sly smirk slowly made its way across his face; he wasn't being met with any resistance whatsoever and his chances of getting this Rick on-side were looking better and better. "I can portal you outta here, but where you go after that is your own choice. What do you say?"

The other Rick looked around as if considering his options, though he had trouble focusing his eyes on anything in particular. "Don't really care," he finally admitted. "A-anything's gotta be better than staying in this dive." He had considerable difficulty standing, but somehow managed the feat anyway. "I-I got crap hiding in the alleyway that somebody should probably take care of... hang back a while. I'm gonna go take a shit."

Rick felt accomplished as he watched him drunkenly stagger off towards the bathroom, though a bigger part of him was overwhelmingly smug; it had been so ridiculously easy and couldn't have gone any better if he tried. His mind became so occupied with all manner of witty comebacks and insults he could throw in the doctor's face that it didn't even occur to him that the whole thing might have been too easy.

He occupied himself by removing the casing from the brainwave detector with a screwdriver while he waited for the other Rick's return. He didn't know it yet, but everything was about to go horribly wrong.

* * *

Now that Ricktus had gotten used to his biomechanical upgrades, he actually liked them. However, he couldn't invest much thought into them as he made his way back into the terminal hub; he had two rather pressing concerns on his mind. He took care of the first by dumping the entire armful of paper rolls he had been carrying straight on top of his assistant's microscope work and ignored the disgruntled sound he was given as he locked his gaze on the second, who was warily staring back at him from the crib nearby.

"I want to study these for myself, so I need you to make local copies before I send them off to HQ," his tone was stern and irritated. "You don't even have to stand up for it. How's your ankle?"

Surgeon Rick narrowed his eyes in contempt at the mess that had just been spilled across his table; he'd been on the verge of a breakthrough and close to isolating the active ingredient in the healing balm he'd been given back on Bird World, but an order was an order. "It's fine." He grunted back.

"Good," Ricktus gave him a curt nod. "You can start with that lot. There's easily a hundred more where they came from but those appear to be the most recent."

"The fuck even are they?" Surgeon Rick picked one at random and unrolled it to answer his question, but was only met with intricate faded lines and alien glyphs that he couldn't decipher.

The doctor's voice turned cold as ice. "You don't need to know."

"Great," Surgeon Rick scowled up at him as he set it aside. "You're in a good mood."

"I had help today." Ricktus matched his expression as he launched straight into his next concern. "I was wondering if you could fill me in on something. What are you still doing with B-526's Morty? He should have come back for him after I sent him away from our expedition. I went looking for him just now, but he wasn't in any of his typical places and his datapad's signal doesn't even appear to be on the ship."

Surgeon Rick glanced off to the side and attempted to stall for time while he thought about what to say; he hated being put on the spot.

"Where did he go, C-711?" The doctor pressed harder and set both arms down on the table, practically looming over his assistant now. "It stands to reason that he would have come here before leaving and your silence only confirms it. He must have had good reason to leave his Morty behind. You obviously know something, so spit it out already!"

Surgeon Rick gently pushed him away. "Look bro, cut it out. I don't actually know. He specifically told me not to ask questions so I didn't-"

"Why not?" Ricktus sharply interrupted. "Under normal circumstances I wouldn't care what he does or where he goes, but these are hardly normal circumstances any more. He was in a bad way when I sent him off to rest, so you must have seen him when he came in here. What happened before I arrived?"

While it was a question that the surgeon could answer, he didn't want to and gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Dunno." The lie was obvious and he knew it.

The doctor gave him a silent glare for several seconds, torn between continuing to press for details or losing his temper. Instead, he gave a sharp frustrated hiss and turned to walk away. "You goddamned moron, I-I don't even know what to say to you! How could you be so negligent? Surely you would have seen the state he was in and stopped him. You're not THAT stupid, are you?"

Of course the surgeon knew better, but he still wasn't willing to speak about it and distracted himself by digging through the rolls of paper on his table to recover the slides he had been working on before.

"Fine. If you won't tell me, then I'll just find him myself... though I'm very disappointed with your attitude lately." Ricktus angrily muttered as he retrieved the pair of interdimensional goggles from his workstation and plugged them into one of the terminals waiting nearby. "How do you know B-526 didn't go off to kill himself?"

Surgeon Rick let out a fed up sigh. "He said he'd be back-"

"And you believed him?" Ricktus cut in. "He left you with a list of instructions on what to do with that Morty, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but I don't think-"

"You certainly didn't on this occasion! This could be the turning point in our diagnostic process and you just let him go? Why?!" Ricktus lost what little composure he had left. "Now I have to catch him again before he does something stupid, and it's going to be even harder this time... one more fuck up like this and maybe I WILL consider sending you back to HQ for a better assistant." He angrily stuffed the goggles on and began entering parameters into the computer. "What's gotten into you? It's not like you to withhold information unless you're hiding something."

Surgeon Rick did not look up, not wanting to make any indication that he was indeed correct. "Maybe I'm just becoming more like you," he grumbled, "sir." He added the last part with an edge of mockery to his voice.

The doctor did not react to the obvious disrespect as he was far more interested in what he was seeing through the screen of the visor. "What the hell is he doing there of all places? It... it doesn't make any sense." He ripped the device off his face and stormed out of the room.

After watching him leave, Surgeon Rick got up to look through the interdimensional goggles for himself, though he was just as confused as his boss had been; all he saw through his dimensional double's eyes was the inside of a trashy bar and he didn't understand. "Just what the hell ARE you playing at, bro...?"

* * *

Rick did not like waiting and was becoming restless; well over an hour had passed since his intended target had departed and he hadn't seen any sign of him since. As he rapped his fingers on the counter, his patience finally snapped and he gave up to go looking. When he didn't find anything in the bathroom, he switched on the brainwave detector in the attempt to find him that way.

There was nothing on the screen except the equivalence of one Rick in immediate proximity, which was obviously himself.

"Well shit," Rick thumped the side of the device with the palm of his hand, but the readout didn't change. "Did he fucking bail on me? He better not have..."

Grumpily, he looked through the other rooms of the bar but found nothing other than more of the usual evening clientele, pathetic and drowning in their misery. When he remembered the comment that the other Rick had hidden things in the alleyway, he went there next.

And then, just as he stepped outside and into the dim light, he found his intended target lying flat on his back next to a dumpster, looking still and completely lifeless.

"Ah, shit!" Rick strode over and fell to his knees beside the downed figure so he could push him onto his side. He was immediately met with the offensive sour stench of vomit as it spilled out of the other Rick's mouth and he had to turn his head away while he felt for a pulse in his neck, though he knew there was no point; he was cold to the touch and not breathing.

Nothing. He was gone.

He retracted his hand again and just silently stared down, not knowing what to do. There was little he could do anyway; the Rick had already been dead long enough that the blood was starting to settle and discolor the lower side of his body.

"Shit..." Rick sank back to sit on the ground and covered his face with a hand; he'd failed at the one thing he came for and now he had a corpse to deal with. Although he'd been around death many times before, seeing his own dead alternate self lying there in a crumpled defeated heap still had a surreal uneasy feeling to it. While it wasn't his fault and little more than a dumb accident, he knew he couldn't leave the body there for long; it was only a matter of time until somebody discovered it or the Council sent one of their own to collect it.

Whatever he did, it had to be quick.

Rummaging through the dead man's coat pockets rewarded him with a plasma pistol and a portal gun with no charge; at the very least he could prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. When he didn't find anything else of value, he rolled the corpse back into the position he'd found it in, stood up again, and pondered how to dispose of it.

In hindsight, that abduction strategy seemed like a pretty good idea now.

Rick reacted instinctively when he heard the sound of a portal opening nearby and dove for cover behind the dumpster. He trained his newfound pistol on the open space while he waited with bated breath, not daring to make a sound until he knew what was going to come out of it.

It was already too late to do anything.

At that moment, the last Rick in the multiverse he wanted to see stepped out into the alleyway and cautiously surveyed his surroundings with his own plasma gun at the ready. As much as Rick didn't want to see the doctor, he calmed slightly; maybe he could be reasoned with.

Ricktus took two steps forward after determining that the immediate area around him was safe, though his reaction was much the same as Rick's when he discovered the corpse. "Oh, FUCK!" He promptly pocketed his weapon and crouched down beside it to inspect it for signs of life. "Goddamnit, Rick, you fucking idiot!" He lowered his head and released a heavy sigh from his lungs, looking genuinely discouraged by his findings. "Shit... I got here too late. It finally got to be too much for you, huh?"

Rick remained in the shadows to observe, gritting his teeth hard at the fact that the other had mistaken the corpse for him. It was hardly surprising considering they all looked the same, but now it meant that any choice he made now wouldn't end well. In any other circumstance it would have provided him with the perfect opportunity to escape, but he couldn't; Morty was still on the ship. The little boy meant everything to him and he would do anything for him. He couldn't just abandon him, and certainly not now.

He couldn't run.

Ricktus hastily took out his datapad and dialed Surgeon Rick's number, practically bellowing into the receiver when it picked up. "Hey, C-711, guess what... you're an incompetent SACK OF SHIT! Thanks to you, our Rick is dead!" A pause. "No, I WISH I was bullshitting you!" He had to hold the device away from his ear and wait through the next response, which was mostly yelled at him. "I-I don't care what you do with that stupid request of his... I have this goddamn mess to clean up." Another pause. He gave a heavy sigh and calmed down. "We'll deal with it when the Council asks, though I don't imagine they're going to be thrilled with either of us."

Rick cursed liberally under his breath as he listened through one side of the conversation; now Surgeon Rick thought he was dead too. The situation was only going to deteriorate further the longer he let it go on, so he began to cautiously shuffle out from his hiding place.

Ricktus narrowed his eyes as he heard the noises nearby, suddenly suspicious. "...I'll call you back." In one swift movement he had hung up and was on his feet again. "OK, who's there?" His datapad was quickly exchanged for the plasma gun he'd been holding before and he pointed it in the direction of the dumpster. "Come on out, I'm not going to hurt you... much."

Rick's next set of movements were taken very slowly and deliberately. As he stood up and stepped into the light, he raised both hands in a surrendering gesture, his gaze closely fixed on the other. "H-hey. This looks bad, doesn't it?" It was an utterly stupid thing to say, but it was all he could think of in the moment.

Ricktus tilted his head slightly at the sight of the other Rick. "Well, well... what have we here? One of those Rickicidal types, huh? I know your kind. Riq IV's going to LOVE meeting you." He narrowed his eyes. "That's as far as you go." He fired a warning shot at the ground in front of the other's feet.

"Whoa, shit!" Rick came to a sharp halt. "Are you crazy?!"

"Aren't we all?" The doctor aimed the barrel of the gun at his head while his gaze drifted upwards and noticed his flopped over hair spikes. "Oh shit." His eyes widened in realization of who he was looking at and utter confusion grew over his face. "B-526? What are you doing here?"

Rick let out a tense breath he had been holding in. "Like I said," his gaze drifted downwards. "Looks bad, doesn't it?"

Ricktus's voice was momentarily sincere. "I'm glad you're alive," his brows set in a deep scowl. "But if you're here, then who is that?"

"Rick C-139," Rick answered at once. "I-it wasn't meant to go this way, trust me. I know this is gonna sound worse, but he was kinda like that when I found him."

"What are you doing in C-139?" Ricktus continued to stare at him, still utterly confused. "You literally have no business being here. Is there something you need to tell me?"

Rick hesitated before answering, but he was glad for the fact that the doctor had opted for trying to find answers over shooting at him again. "You're right, I don't have a reason to be here. I just wanted to bring him back alive and shove it in your face." He gently shrugged his shoulders. "I-I made a mistake."

Ricktus's voice dropped dangerously low. "You're damn right you did." He kept the gun trained on his target and took two steps backwards as his eyes drifted from Rick to the corpse on the ground, then back to Rick again, trying to make sense of it all. In another moment, his eyes widened again at the conclusion that came into his head. "...this was you, wasn't it?"

"N-no!" Rick protested immediately. "I told you, he was like that when I found him. Can you just... not be an idiot and put the gun down? I don't wanna do this any more. I'll even help you get rid of the guy and it'll be like nothing ever happened."

Ricktus stared blankly after the proposal, needing time to grasp that the situation was indeed real. A loud snort escaped him and then he broke into a fit of dark laughter. "Oh, shit... really? Fucking really?!"

Rick sighed; his arms were starting to get sore. He had been presented with another perfect opportunity to run, but he refused. "OK, so you are going to be an idiot..."

Ricktus turned on him, all traces of mirth suddenly gone. "No, you're the idiot, Rick. You honestly expect me to believe your ridiculous story? I should have predicted this, though I don't get it. You had the time but not a motive. Why would you do this?"

"I. Didn't. DO. SHIT." Each word was spoken with firm emphasis. "What reason do I even have to kill him? I already told you what happened, but you're the one who walked in at the worst possible time." Rick's expression turned dead serious. "I don't wanna fight you about this, I... I-I just wanna get out of here." As if to back up his words, he slowly lowered one arm and threw the plasma pistol he'd been carrying at the doctor's feet, disarming himself. Next came the brainwave detector, which he threw in the same direction.

"I've already learned that nothing you do makes sense. Did you do it to see if you could?" Ricktus raised an eyebrow quizzically. "How many others have you murdered? Back when I first captured you, are you sure you didn't leave your portal gun behind on purpose just to see if I'd come after you? Were you planning on killing me too?"

"NO! Now you're just letting your mind run away with itself!" Rick growled. "Think about this properly - if I really did kill the guy, then why the hell am I still standing here and willingly surrendering to you?"

"I don't actually know," the doctor spent a few seconds in silent thought, then began to softly snicker. "Oh... of course. C-711 still has your Morty, doesn't he?"

Rick's brow flattened as low as it would go.

"What a pity," Ricktus bent over to retrieve the plasma pistol from the ground and quickly decided it was better than the weapon he had been carrying. "You know, I was starting to like you, B-526. But I can't abide Rickicide and neither does the Council. It really is a shame you know... you showed such potential."

"So that's it then? You're gonna execute me for a crime when you only have circumstantial evidence? OK, so it looks pretty damning, but you're declaring me guilty without even reasoning through it." Rick hissed at him. "Why don't you check the body out for yourself? That moron choked to death on his own vomit, it's fucking obvious. He didn't even roll onto his side, i-it's like an example of Darwinism at work!" Against all better judgment, he tossed over his own portal gun, rendering himself completely vulnerable.

"That sounds more like a job for the coroners at the Citadel, which I have to do now. Thanks a lot." The doctor seemed irritated by the thought. "And don't worry, I'm not going to kill you. I'd rather let the Council sort it out." He stepped in front of the other two devices to block access to them with his legs and set the plasma pistol to stun. "You see, I was already planning to take you back. I can't tell you how glad I am that it's not you lying on the ground over there, but... if are you really the Rick that's been going around silently picking us off on our own timelines, then you're worth a LOT more to me than 2.1 million credits."

Rick shook his head in disgust. "You dumbass motherfucker... y-you... you're making a huge mistake! You gotta call your assistant back and stop him from taking my grandson to Birdperson, otherwise they're all gonna think I'm dead too. Can't we just drop the whole thing and leave? Let me get back to Morty, OK?"

"You'll be lucky if you ever get back to your Morty after the Council learns about this."

The comment provoked an explosive reaction out of the scientist and he flew into a wild rage. "Y-you goddamn SON OF A BITCH! I-I'll fucking KILL YOU if you take him away from me!" He rushed at him with both hands clenched into fists, not even caring that the gun was still aimed at him.

Ricktus lowered the pistol and fired a singular shot at near point-blank range into his target's chest. "That's all I needed to hear." His expression became completely impassive as he watched the scientist collapse in a heap at his feet.

If he didn't have a mild overdose of liquid painkillers in his system, Rick might have felt something as his body gave out from under him. "F... f-fuck you..."

"I didn't want to do this," Ricktus peered downwards, though he was satisfied that his captive wasn't going anywhere. "It sounds strange but before all this began, I was secretly hoping we could form some kind of alliance. I thought I could save you from your illness and that you'd actually be grateful for it. But that was never going to happen, was it?"

"I-I swear... i-if anything happens to Morty..."

"You've already decided to ally with C-711, but that's fine. I suspect he's been conspiring against me for a while, but your arrival gave him more of a reason to do so." He was definitely thinking aloud now. "Your tendency to lead the way inspired him, and I think it's part of why the Council wants you so badly. You see, I've been watching you for a long time. There's something about you and I've finally worked out what it is... I'd already written you off. I didn't think you were evil enough, but then you go ahead and murder a brother in cold blood."

"I-I didn't kill him, you moronic piece of shit!" Rick managed a pathetic twitch of his legs as he tried to move away. "Why... why would you shoot an unarmed man? You're a fucking psychopath..."

"Sure, buddy. Whatever." Ricktus placed a foot down on the scientist's shoulder to stop him. "The Council knows a lot more than they let on, so when they kept pushing that they wanted you, it made me wonder why. Time and time again, the shit you do makes no sense and yet, you're so much better at it than any of us. The Council needs a cold calculating Rick willing to do anything, so I suppose you having the capacity for murder isn't surprising. Either way, it leads me to only one one conclusion... you're the Rickest Rick, aren't you?"

Rick just glared back at him, the complete lack of understanding apparent on his face.

Ricktus stared blankly. "You've... never heard about this? Uh, the paragon of the central finite curve? The Rickest example of a Rick that ever was? No?"

"What the fuck are you talking about...?"

The doctor released a weary sigh from his lungs. "It would make sense that you don't know about it yet. Either way, they've been looking for you for a long time. I know we've been close, but," he glanced off to the side. "If it's true, then I can't afford to let you go."

"I-I suppose that's worth money too?" Rick asked bitterly.

"Yes, actually. But we have other matters to attend to first," Ricktus stood tall and stiffened in his posture, his expression becoming authoritative. "By my authority as a registered silver member of the Citadel of Ricks, I am officially arresting you on grounds of Rickicide. The ship has a brig I can hold you in until the Council can take you. Until then, I have your damned mess to clean up." He picked up Rick's portal gun and used it to fire a portal at the dumpster. "Thanks to you, now Quantum Rick gets to see this thing intact. You're not getting it back any time soon."

Rick closed his eyes and made a loud defeated sigh; the whole situation had officially spiraled out of control in the worst possible way.

* * *

"Fucking WHAT?!"

"What about the Council, man? Oh shit, what are we even gonna tell them!? We're so dead..."

Surgeon Rick tried to press for more details, but he'd already been hung up on. He launched the datapad across the terminal hub in his distress and buried his face in his hands, the crushing weight of defeat bearing down on him. He'd barely known Rick a week and reminded himself that he was supposed to remain detached and clinical, but it didn't work; the news of his death managed to affect him all the same. What made it worse was that he believed it was entirely his fault; if he'd only pushed harder then maybe his friend would still be alive.

his boss had been right - this was the exact reason why they weren't supposed to care about them.

He felt like a complete idiot.

From the portable crib, Morty closely watched the strangely-clothed spiky haired man, totally oblivious to what was going on. All he could sense was his heightened level of emotion and it made him uneasy. He made a tiny whimper as he leaned over the side and reached out for the older man with both hands, not understanding.

Surgeon Rick raised his head just enough to look over to him. "Ah, shit... you poor little fucker. You're not even old enough to get it, are you?" He moved to his feet and bundled up the little boy in his arms; there was only one thing he could do with him now. "Sorry that shit turned out the way it did... I'll come back every now and again and check up on you as you grow, OK? Your Rick would have wanted that."

The visit to Bird World in Dimension B-526 was a quick one. Although the surgeon's career meant that he'd had to notify the next of kin about a person's death many times before, it still didn't make the task any easier. He didn't even need to say anything when he arrived on the front door of Birdperson's tree house; his downcast expression and the fact that he was carrying Morty said it all.

Birdperson silently took the little boy into his arms and disappeared to the spare nest room, leaving Surgeon Rick behind to stand in the doorway.

Morty screamed his lungs out the entire way.

* * *

Back on the ship, Rick's only source of light was the faint green glowing floor strips outside his cell. He'd been thrown in the ship's brig straight after the altercation with the doctor had ended, and it had been done in such haste that he hadn't even been stripped of the items in his pockets. Although he knew he could escape if he only put them to use, it would reflect badly on him if he did. The threat Ricktus had made was literally the only thing keeping him there; he still didn't know Morty's whereabouts and certainly wasn't going to risk never seeing him again.

As he paced back and forth in the tiny space, he allowed his mind to wander.

If he'd only stayed behind like he was supposed to, then he'd still be with Morty and Rick C-139 might still be alive. He silently cursed his own ego and stubbornness, but soon realized there wasn't any point; he was stuck now. While the whole situation was stupid, the accusation of murder was laughable at best - if the doctor was going to take the corpse to the coroner like he'd claimed, then forensic evidence alone would back up Rick's side of the story.

He hadn't even touched the guy until after he'd died.

He hoped reason would prevail as he impatiently waited. In the first hour, the liquid painkillers started wearing off. Somewhere during the middle of the second hour, he huddled uncomfortably in the corner of his cell. By the end of the third, he was balled up on the floor.

He heard multiple sets of footsteps approaching; one was clunky, while the other rapidly scuttled across the tiles. He didn't bother moving.

"You've created a lot of work for me, B-526. If you still wanted to shove something in my face, then you have that. Good job." The sound of his own voice spoke to him, though Rick already knew who it was from the humorless tone. "The Council has been informed of your actions. They're going to send a troop of guards to collect you whenever they can be bothered, I-I don't fucking know their schedule. I've also relinquished all responsibility of you to Riq IV himself, so have fun dealing with him, you filthy murderer."

"Where's Morty...?"

Ricktus chose not to answer and continued. "I've also handed over copies of your clinical notes to the Citadel infirmary. Let's try and do something right in all of this mess, shall we? It's more than I can say for what you did to Rick C-139."

Rick raised his head towards his dimensional counterpart, giving him a look of absolute contempt. "Y-you... you think I give a shit about any of that? Tell me where my fucking grandson is!"

The response was cold and unfeeling. "I have a better question for you. What makes you think you deserve to know?"

Another set of rushed footsteps could be heard coming up the hallway. They were accompanied by panicked cursing, though most of it was unintelligible. Surgeon Rick suddenly rushed into the brig with a small box-like device clutched tightly in both hands, which was flashing red and making alarm calls. "Fuck, what are you doing all the way down here at a time like this?! The goddamn proximity alarms are going off!"

Ricktus breathed a heavy sigh and stepped over to him, planting both hands firmly on his shoulders. "Calm down, C-711. How do you know it isn't space dust like last time? Why didn't you just call me over the communication channel? I'm kind of in the middle of something crazy here." He turned to face his insect companion. "Fleur, why don't you go check that out for me? It's probably nothing."

 _"OK!"_ The insect's collar enthusiastically replied. _"Why are you making me look at nothing?"_

"Yeah, fantastic assumption there, boss. You think I wanted the fuckers to hear us? Why don't we just roll out the welcome mat while we're at it?" Surgeon Rick retorted. "All of the alarms are going off at once, like, friggin' ALL of them. I thought it was nothing too, so I checked out the external cameras." He dropped the box on the floor and whipped out his datapad to show off the footage he'd collected. "You gotta see this shit, bro. We got a planet-sized ship coming up on our ass. There was no warning until about ten minutes ago. I don't know how something so big managed to sneak up on us like that, but it's probably been following us for weeks. It evaded all our detection equipment."

"What?" The doctor's blood ran cold as he saw the screen. "How...?" He managed to choke out.

"To be fair, most of the shit is broken and your ship's a piece of crap, sir." Surgeon Rick would have made more light of the situation if it wasn't so dire. "Whatever you decide, do it now. Because in about 90 seconds they'll be all over us like a fat kid on a piece of cake."

Rick was sitting up and paying close attention now; the surgeon's voice was genuine enough for it not to be a prank. "See, I-I told you so... why don't you just portal outta here?"

"Can't," Ricktus bluntly stated. "There's too much valuable Council tech on board, not to mention the hundreds of computers we have on loan from them and the missing portal gun. Then there's all the technology from the collective group of species who used to run this place. Their teleportation stuff is paltry compared our portal guns, but the cloning tanks are-"

"What the HELL, man!?" Surgeon Rick shoved his boss aside and stood in front of Rick's jail cell to yell at him. "You-y-you goddamn SON OF A BITCH! You gave me a fuckin' heart attack! You were alive this whole time!?"

Rick gave him a soft sigh. "Yeah... f-for now, anyway."

"Fuck you, smartass!" It was hard to tell exactly what emotion Surgeon Rick was trying to convey; his tone could have easily been taken as anger or annoyance. "Do you have ANY idea what happened in the last couple of hours? You said you weren't gonna do anything stupid, right? So what the hell do you call this?!"

Rick cast an accusatory glare back in Ricktus's direction. "Not entirely my fault," he paused. "Where's Morty?"

"I left him with the bird dude, because, oh, I don't know... I thought you were dead!" Surgeon Rick wasted no time verbally laying into him again. "I hope you got a damn good explanation waiting, because your Morty's NOT fuckin' happy about where he is now!"

"Great." Rick finally moved to his feet, pushing through considerable discomfort. "Well at least one of you is useful... how about being more useful and getting me out of here? Wait, does a jail cell count as a cage? Long story, but I can't die in a cage. I-I don't wanna talk about it."

"Why are you even in there?" Surgeon Rick began scanning the bars with his eyes, searching for a way to unlock them. "I can't see a keypad anywhere."

"Not so fast, C-711." Ricktus grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and pulled him away. "Don't be so quick to help out your new buddy. Just after I called you, I caught him in the act of killing a Rick in a dimension he had no business with. Do you really want to become an accessory to murder?"

Surgeon Rick looked visibly shaken and he took a step backwards to get further out of the way. "Holy shit..." The look he gave Rick was one of utter disbelief. "Did you really do it?"

"NO!" Rick clutched at the bars of his cell and rattled them in frustration. "What reason do I have!? He-he didn't even see it happen, he just jumped to conclusions like a moron. This whole thing is a misunderstanding. I didn't do shit!"

"That's for the Council to decide," Ricktus folded his arms across his chest. "I expect they'll be here any time now."

"Oh for..." Rick was about to say more, but a deep rumble shook through the floor, vibrating the walls and the structure around them. "Sounds like your contact just made contact. Are you really just gonna keep me locked up in here? You might need an extra pair of hands to shoot stuff."

"Yeah, good plan. Should we let you out so you can shoot us too? In what reality did you think that would work?" The doctor's attention was glued to the ceiling and his posture became tense, like he was preparing to leave at any given moment. "Every murderer in the history of murdering people claims they didn't do it. You're not even trying now."

"Goddamnit, i-it's true!" Rick finally snapped. "Take your judgment and shove it up your ass!" He glared at Surgeon Rick. "Why don't you do something about this? You believe me, right? Come on, think through it for yourself. What do I even have to gain from killing another Rick?!"

"He'll say anything to get to you, C-711. Don't let him." Ricktus flinched ever so slightly as another distant rumble rippled through the ship. "Whose word are you going to take? Your long-term work colleague's, or some generic hack you only met several days ago?"

Surgeon Rick glanced at the doctor, then back to Rick, unsure how to handle either of them; they both sounded pretty convincing. "What if you're wrong, boss?"

"When am I ever wrong?"

Surgeon Rick coughed awkwardly. "Quite a lot, actually."

"Shut up, C-711! This is no time for your insubordination!" Ricktus barked. "Go make yourself useful and grab some weapons from the barracks. If our new neighbors try to board us, we're going to need them."

"So you're just gonna leave me here while you get invaded?!" Rick called out from his cell. "Stop taking that kind of shit from him and open the damn door already! If there was ever a good time to grow a pair, it's right now!"

A deafening ear-grating screech echoed through the hallways from a distant part of the ship, like the sound of metal scraping against metal. A second later, the floor groaned and trembled like an earthquake.

It was all Surgeon Rick needed to put the situation into perspective; he swiftly delivered a right hook to the doctor's jaw and knocked him clean off his feet. "Open the cell, bro."

Ricktus didn't see it coming and was already down by the time he had worked out what happened. "Have you lost your mind, C-711?!" As he nursed his jaw with the fingers of his left hand, his voice elevated just below a yell. "If you side with B-526 and get caught up in his mess, he'll take you down with him! Do you want to get fired?!"

"By the sounds of things, I'm probably not gonna have a job here much longer anyway. Plus my boss is an asshole," Surgeon Rick admitted as he stood over him. "Can you like, not be an irrational douchebag this one time? Because I'd say your 90 second warning is up."


	26. Countdown To Rickxtinction

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is unofficial fanfiction.

 **NOTE:** Heyo! Sorry this chapter is quite late but the content and plot in this and the next one has been brutal to construct. I'll try to get the next one out in a timely manner but if you want updates in the meantime, silly R &M-styled drawings that correlate to this story, or even just to talk/ask me questions, you can find me over on Tumblr at RickAndMortyByKat :) I promise I haven't abandoned this and don't intend to either. As always, please leave a review if you like what I got. Thanks for the amazing support you guys keep giving me. It's awesome and keeps me motivated to write.

* * *

 _Pretty sweet ride as long as you can hold on_  
 _Here right now, going, it's gone_

 _The signal and the noise,_  
 _The pieces of the world they'll find_  
 _The echo of a choice_  
 _The static that you leave behind_  
 _It's better than solid state_

 _\- Solid State (Reprise) - Jonathan Coulton_

* * *

 **Chapter 26 – Countdown To Rickxtinction**

 **December 2nd, 3:51pm , Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316  
**

* * *

"You goddamn traitor, C-711!" Ricktus howled in angry declaration. "Riq IV is going to hear about this!"

The gravity of Surgeon Rick's actions were creeping in on him – he'd just punched his boss in the face. Although they'd endured more than their fair share of disagreements in the past, it had never ended in physical aggression before. While he knew there would be consequences to his actions, he just couldn't deny how satisfying it had felt. "It's been a long time comin'," he clasped his hands together and cracked his knuckles to emphasize his words. "Do you need me to hit you again? Because if I gotta knock some sense into you, then I guess that's how it's gonna have to be."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't," Ricktus glared up at his assistant as he rubbed his jaw; that one was going to leave a bruise. "I-I don't get you... your behavior is completely insane! If you let Rick B-526 out, then we are both going to die. Don't you realize that?!"

"Please. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already." Rick growled, his expression turning dark. "Though you gotta admit, now you've given me a couple of good reasons. I'm not gonna forget what you said about Morty in a hurry!"

Surgeon Rick turned to glare at him. "Yo, shut up. You're not helping." He stood beside his boss and offered out a hand to demonstrate that he was still on his side. "Are you done being an asshole? C'mon, think about it... why would the Council invite a murderous Rick to join the Citadel? Aside from the fact that he fuckin' hates them, it'd be like throwing a cat among the pigeons. The big boss is a lot of things, but he's not stupid," his eyes were on Rick again, "and it's not like you got many other options right now."

Ricktus lightly smacked his hand away and got back up on his own. "Unfortunately, you're right... I don't know what's out there or what they what they want from us, but we can't abandon ship. There's too many valuable things on board they can steal and exploit."

"Are they the same dudes who fucked everything up before? Maybe they've just come back to finish the job?" Surgeon Rick wondered. "Though if they want in that bad, they should have knocked first. Barging your way in is pretty inconsiderate, bro."

"Now is not a good time for your clever mouth, C-711." Ricktus sighed. "I'd never really considered being invaded before, I thought we were too far into deep space. We need some kind of strategy. Maybe we should try negotiation?"

"I dunno about that," Surgeon Rick sounded skeptical now. "It doesn't exactly sound like they're interested in talking." He paused in thought. "Wait, how much sensitive shit do you stand to lose anyway? You said the Council is sending guards, right? Can't we just ask for more of them to help move all the shit?"

"Ugh... it would take weeks to clear out, even with every active member of the guard helping us." Ricktus buried his face in his hands; the thought of co-ordinating such a large moving operation was somewhat overwhelming. "I could send a distress signal to the Council and ask them to teleport the entire ship to another dimension, but I don't think they'd care to move quickly enough. Even then, we don't have the luxury of waiting for them... it's already too late. All we can do now is either enter into negotiations with our new contact, or hold the ship down and hope the hive's natural defense instincts are enough to stop them."

The deep boom of a far off explosion could be heard, which was followed by a violent shockwave that rattled and shuddered the entire ship's very framework. It threw both Ricktus and Surgeon Rick off their feet, but Rick held onto the bars of his cell and managed to ride it out, suddenly quite thankful for the fact that Morty wasn't on board.

"Does THAT sound like something you can negotiate with?!" The scientist angrily quipped. "You're not going to get anything done if you keep wasting time here! Let me out already!"

The words did not register. Instead, Ricktus just dumbly sat where he had fallen, his eyes widening as if going into shock. His posture went rigid like a statue and he was unable to speak, unable to move, or do anything. His breathing became shallow and erratic as his mind pulled him into the memory of what had happened the last time he'd encountered such noises and although he knew it was completely irrational, he couldn't seem to make it stop.

Surgeon Rick smacked a hand against his forehead and groaned; the timing couldn't have been worse. "Get your shit together!" He gave him an aggressive shove and stood up again. "How do I open the cell?"

No response.

"Whatever, dude..." Surgeon Rick returned to inspecting the bars but found a way through this time; the locking mechanism had been warped in the last set of vibrations and he easily forced the door open. "There you go, now quit your whining!" He quickly instructed Rick. "What the hell are we supposed to do, bro? Help us out here!"

Right then and there, Rick knew he should be running as fast and far away as possible; if Morty was safe on Bird World then there was literally no reason to stick around. He could have easily knocked the surgeon out, or taken advantage of the doctor's catatonic state to steal either one of their portal guns, but the thought caused him to hesitate. As he moved beyond the confines of his cell, his gaze shifted back and forth from one to the other and he realized just how pathetic they really were. When he noticed that Surgeon Rick was staring at him attentively as if awaiting instructions, he gave a quiet resigned sigh and pinched his brow in irritation.

There was no conceivable reason why he should be helping either one of them and yet, there was just something wrong about leaving them behind.

"Fine..." He reluctantly conceded, though he already suspected he was going to regret it. "Get the moron up off the floor. First things first, we need to access the cameras you were looking at before and find out what we're dealing with. I just hope they don't have any plasma suppression bullshit because that was super inconvenient before."

Although Surgeon Rick wanted to know what he was talking about, the scientist was already walking off in the direction he had come in. All he could do was grab his boss by the arm and drag him along while he did his best to keep up through a limping gait. "Yo, wait up, asshole!"

He needn't have bothered; Rick was already slowing down as the pain under his ribs made its presence known again. He used an arm to cradle the right side of his abdomen and pushed through it as he led the way into the main corridors of the ship.

The sight they were met as they made their way back into the more familiar parts may as well have been the aftermath of an alien war zone; the ship had come alive with hundreds of angry bees to the backdrop of alert sirens. Some of them carried out repairs where they stood while others scurried off to unknown parts of the hive. The ceiling freely leaked bright-blue coolant from pipes that had been damaged in the onslaught, while rivulets of clear syrup bled down the walls and onto the floor.

"Well, damn... i-is there even anything worth saving?" Rick scowled. "You want a great way to stop your sensitive data and technology from being stolen? Blow it up. Your attackers can't steal anything if it's on fire."

The comment found its way through the haze of the doctor's mind and it brought him back to his senses. "...w-what?!" He choked out as he managed to scramble to his feet.

Rick stopped and turned to face him. "You know, kaboom," he made a mushroom cloud gesture with his free hand. "Make a violent chemical reaction."

"No... I know what you said, but," Ricktus paused; he was still having difficulty with his thoughts. "Y-you're not blowing up my ship!"

"Hey, you know what?" Surgeon Rick suddenly grinned. "I like the way this guy thinks. That would actually work, right?"

"Everything is flammable," Rick quickly reasoned through his outstanding thought. "The atmosphere, the shit the insects produce, hell... even the insects themselves are combustible, aren't they?"

"You're NOT blowing up my ship!" It was spoken with much more clarity and firmness this time.

"It's a great idea, bro." Surgeon Rick sounded far too happy. "I really like this plan!"

"It's fucking crazy!" Ricktus spat back. "I-I live here, you can't just set fire to everything! Damn it, maybe they don't even know we're here... we should talk to them first."

"I already tried that on you," Rick hissed at him. "Look what happened."

Ricktus gave the scientist a sharp huff. "I still stand by my decision. As soon as the guards arrive I'm handing you over. Why should I trust anything you have to say?" He glanced down at the 'pet' insect that had been obediently following them the whole time. "Fleur, what does the hive have to say about all of this? Do they have any idea what's going on?"

 _"War."_ The bee's collar chirped. _"War and death and food."_

"Holy shit, that thing can talk!?" Surgeon Rick yelped. "See, I told you they were smart!"

"They're smarter and more loyal than you ever were," the doctor's voice turned cold and bitter. "I don't expect you to understand them, but if you have any interest in saving the colony and everything else here, then I suggest you shut up and follow me to the terminal hub."

"Do you really think you can save this piece of shit?" Surgeon Rick pointed to the fresh damage along the roof as they passed under it. "I mean it's seen bad days, but it's not gonna be able to take another hit by the looks of it."

"It won't have to if we can get a communication link up to our new contact," the doctor bluntly replied. "If they're open to discussion, then perhaps they can be reasoned with."

"Are you dense? It's an exercise in futility!" Rick growled in frustration. "I've been in space long enough to know that if something's shooting at you, it's generally their objective to keep shooting at you. Do you think they're going to stop and sit down with you over coffee?!"

Ricktus whirled around and moved so close into his dimensional counterpart's personal space that their noses were almost touching. "I don't care if you've been in space long enough to see the whole damn universe, B-526." He jabbed him in the sternum with an index finger. "This place is all I have left and if I can do something to save it, then I will. Surely you of all people can understand that?"

Rick's expression was guarded as he used his free hand to push him away again; it had hurt and he didn't want him to know it. "You're just lucky we're heading for the same destination... because I have NO issues lighting this place up like a Christmas tree."

Ricktus straightened in his posture before continuing to move off down the corridor. "Let's hope the guards get here before that happens, hmm?" He nodded in Surgeon Rick's direction. "Do you still have your gun on you? Keep it close and be prepared to shoot the prisoner if necessary. Though, if you're still on that traitorous path and want to kill me instead, I don't give a fuck. I only ask you get it done quickly."

"So dramatic," Surgeon Rick rolled his eyes. "Get over yourself, huh? I'm not gonna kill you, bro. You're taking this too hard... you're acting like someone pushed over your goddamn block tower."

"Shut up, C-711." It was dispensed with no anger and only a vague hint of irritation.

It was the best response the surgeon could hope for, all things considered.

* * *

A distressed cry echoed throughout the walls of Birdperson's tree house. It stopped as its owner paused to draw in breath and then it began anew.

Squanchy had just come in to it from another one of his hunts. His first reaction was to cringe in pain while he moved to the main bedroom of the house to check out the source. There, he found Morty on the floor next to Birdperson's bed, flopped over and alternating between quietly sobbing to himself or screaming his head off.

Birdperson sat nearby, his feathers looking more frazzled than usual. He had no skill or knowledge in how to deal with an upset child and Morty hadn't stopped since his arrival. Since the little boy didn't want to be anywhere near him, Birdperson had left him to cry it out, figuring he'd get tired of it eventually.

That had been four hours ago.

The feathered male took one look at Squanchy and inclined his head to get his attention. "Help."

"How?" Squanchy bared his fangs. "Squanchin' hell, is that ever going to stop?"

"Perhaps," Birdperson answered simply, "I do not know."

"Is it hungry?" Squanchy wondered as he stood in front of the youngster. "Why is it even here?"

Birdperson wasted no time and got straight into it. "Rick is dead."

While the words certainly reached his ears, the feline creature still struggled with comprehending them. All he could do was stand there, slack-jawed and eyes wide, but only a dumb sound managed to come out of his mouth.

"Rick is dead," Birdperson said again, though if he felt anything he certainly wasn't showing it; his wings were rigid and his tone was as stoic as ever. "Now it is our job to nurture and guide his legacy."

"You don't... actually believe that, do ya?" Squanchy found his voice again. "Remember last time? Everyone thought he was dead, but you didn't. And then he came back just like you guessed." His tone became desperate. "Say it ain't so, BP!"

"It is different this time." Birdperson promptly explained. "The strange clone version of Rick dropped Morty off while you were away from the tree house. You were present for the conversation with Rick earlier, were you not? He said nothing, but I am left to believe that the clone was enacting upon the instructions he had given during that time. There can be no other explanation for Morty being delivered here."

"Well, great..." Squanchy's ears drooped to match his mood and he cast his gaze in the direction of the crying youngster. "What the squanch are we even gonna do with him? What about the Feds, man? We were supposed to be flying out any day now!"

"I am not certain. It would not be wise to depart and join in with the resistance's second wave of attack until I have decided with to do with Morty." Birdperson waved a hand down in the little boy's direction. "I did not observe Rick long enough to learn how to deal with this effectively, so all we can do for the time being is stay and wait for him to adapt to us. Right now he is afraid and uncertain of his surroundings. This behavior is completely understandable."

Morty watched the movement in the corner of his eye and promptly scooted back from the strange feathery person, wanting to get away as far as possible. Even though he knew where he was, he still didn't want to be there; he wanted Rick. The thought made him begin screaming all over again.

The noise was like a sledgehammer straight to the feline creature's sensitive eardrums. "Oh god, make it stop... make it stop!" His tail thrashed behind him in agitation and he covered his ears with his paws. "Make it STOP!"

Morty's attention had been diverted just long enough to quieten him and he tentatively reached a hand out towards the flicking tail fur. Once he'd grabbed onto it, he stuffed it into his mouth and was finally silent.

"What the squanch?!" Squanchy yelped. "What are you doing that for?"

Birdperson quickly raised a hand to stop him. "Stay where you are. I do not know why that is working, but keep doing it."

Squanchy sighed in exasperation but did as he was told; they had a long way to go.

* * *

It was apparent that a fire had broken out when the trio finally arrived in the terminal hub; a copious quantity of flame retardant foam dripped from the sprinkler system overhead and coated a large section of computers in the back corner of the room. Although it had since been put out, the offensive smell of burnt electronics and plastic still lingered in the air along with latent smoke and heat.

Ricktus fanned a hand out in front of him as he made his way over to his workstation, opened a portal, and then began throwing the contents of his drawers straight into it.

"Didn't you say the shit here would take weeks to clear out, boss? If so, isn't what you're doing kinda pointless?" Surgeon Rick raised the questions before coughing; the fumes clearly weren't doing anything good for him. "Things were never this bad before... I dunno how much longer the ship can take it."

"Nonsense," the doctor curtly returned, "I just need to tidy up. This can all be repaired if it's well handled. It's not irrecoverable... it's merely a setback."

"Denial," Surgeon Rick loudly coughed again, though this time it was deliberate. "I get that it's an important part of the coping process, but damn yo, you got it bad."

"Shut up and open a communication link. Above all else, I need to know where Rick D-491's portal gun went. If our enemies get a hold of it and the Council finds out, who knows what they'll do to me..." Ricktus became more frantic and launched his entire bottom drawer into the open vortex. "Shit, where is it!?"

Although Surgeon Rick kind of wanted to tell him, he knew it would only create further tension between them. He instead diverted his attention towards the nearest terminal and began carrying out the instructions he'd been given. "How do you know these fuckers even speak our language? What happens if they end up screaming at us in some weird alien dialect?"

Rick just stood there and watched on; he saw no reason to intervene and as long as the doctor was out of the way and distracted then he didn't care what he did. "Can you bring up the surveillance you were looking at before?" He asked the surgeon as he pulled up a chair beside him. "Maybe they have an obvious weak spot we can exploit."

"Yeah, have fun with that," Surgeon Rick reached across to the computer beside him and tapped a singular button on the side of the monitor. "It sounds like some cheap plot gimmick out of a 70s space opera movie."

The images that came on the screen were confusing at first; the front of the ship was still facing the gaseous nebula it had been sailing through, but the rest of the live video feed told a different story entirely. The back end appeared to be jammed in some kind of steel-grey docking station and as the scientist flicked through the rest of cameras, the situation became more clear.

They weren't being boarded at all; they were being abducted.

Rick was about to comment on his observations, but then he caught a glimpse of their new alien neighbors as an armored group of them patrolled through their own dock; backwards bending clawed buggy limbs, olive-green segmented bodies complete with fly-like wings, danglers on their lower and midsections, and red compound soulless eyes that he would never forget for as long as he lived.

Gromflomites.

"Oh, you gotta be fucking KIDDING me..."

At first, Rick could only stare blankly at the screen. Then, he threw his head back and howled with maddening unhinged laughter, actually having to hold himself around the middle while he did so. He was so caught up in it that he didn't even notice the other two Ricks had stopped what they were doing to closely watch him.

"Are you... OK over there, bro?" Surgeon Rick blinked in confusion, then glanced at the screen for himself to discover what all the fuss was about.

"Holy hell," Rick managed to wheeze through another laugh. "What did you do to piss THEM off?! I-I thought I was bad, but shit... a planet-sized ship? That's gotta be their entire species out there, o-or most of it. You are SO screwed in the worst possible way!"

The surgeon chose to let him go and continued to search the screen for an answer. While the imagery of the aliens was lost on him, the ship's predicament was not. "Oh damn, son... now what do we do?"

The question knocked Rick out of his reverie. "Fucking. DESTROY. THEM." He declared through gritted teeth. "A-and don't stop until every last one of them is dead! They're not gonna be open to civil discussion or negotiation. They'll just take what they want and fuck over anyone else standing in their way!"

Ricktus came up to stand behind Rick's chair in order to look at the same screen as his dimensional counterparts. Although he managed to keep his expression completely neutral, the silence that followed suggested he was anything but happy with the discovery. "...well, this doesn't bode well. If they're anything like the ones in your reports to the Council, then it doesn't put us in a very good position."

"You think?!" Rick angrily spat out the words. "About the only thing you got going for you is that you can brag about having TWO intergalactic dictator factions in your dimension for the price of one-"

"Shut up, B-526." Ricktus had grown tired of listening to him. "How goes the communication link, C-711?"

Surgeon Rick didn't respond; he was completely preoccupied with sifting through channels while he clutched a microphone he had plugged into the computer he was working on. After finding several frequencies of local static, the air was filled with the screeches of alien music. "Huh... I guess they have radio stations? I wonder what their TV shows are like?"

"Give me that," Ricktus snatched the microphone away and began broadcasting with it. "This is the Verdant Harbinger, call-sign is, uh... I can't even remember. Whatever. Point is, this is my ship and you're in my space. We didn't do anything to you, so... disengage." He shrugged his shoulders; while he'd never actually prepared for anything like this before, he figured it sounded good enough.

It obviously attracted the intended recipient's attention, because the computers around the room crackled with heavy interference. Once an appropriate broadcasting channel was found, all the screens were jammed with the same video image. The bug-green commander that appeared on the monitor in front of them actually seemed surprised that there were still live occupants on board the ship.

"Well, hey there! Say, you're not a member of the alliance, are you?" He sounded far too friendly and upbeat. "This is super awkward, but... sorry about the mishap before, it was just business. No hard feelings, right?"

"Let's make one thing clear... I'm not one of them." Ricktus spoke with such firm conviction that it wasn't questioned. "However, this ship and everything in it belongs to me. You could say I inherited it after the previous owners' untimely demise, but look, this whole thing is stupid. I don't want anything to do with you, so go away and leave us alone."

"Oh, I can't do that," the alien commander's voice was suddenly stern and business-like as he jabbed the camera lens with one of the clawed claspers on his hand. "You see, you have a deadly weapon on board. I'm going to need you to give it to me, so... if you don't, then I'm afraid we're going to have to blow you up for real this time. Sorry about that!"

"Deadly weapon?" As Ricktus repeated the words under his breath in the attempt to make sense of them, his tone remained stone cold, not wanting to give his thoughts away. "Phh... if that's all you want, I'm willing to make a trade. Maybe you have something I want in return?"

The Gromflomite went silent. Several undecipherable things were hastily mumbled to him from off the left side of the camera and he nodded at each one. "The diplomats find this agreeable. You can have anything you want from us but no exchange will be made until the weapon is ours. Are we clear?"

"Perfectly." The doctor wanted to ask so much more, but merely flattened his brow.

"Great. That was too easy!" The Gromflomite commander sounded chipper all over again. "Bring it straight to our loading dock. In the meantime, we have to finish landing your garbage but we'll try to cause as little damage as possible... for now."

"Wait, what's that supposed to mean?" Ricktus growled into the microphone but didn't receive a reply; the jammed communication signal had already been terminated. Within seconds, the loud groan of metal against metal was resumed as the entire ship was pulled further into the loading bay.

The ship's occupants experienced brief sensations of heaviness and floating while the ship's gravity generators were remotely hacked and disabled. After it was done, the gravity equalized again and the structure began to creek in protest; it had been built in space and obviously wasn't designed to withstand its own weight.

"Man, you know what? Fuck this whole thing... they make it sound like they've already won." Surgeon Rick frowned. "What the hell are you thinking, boss? Talk to us here. Are you seriously gonna risk negotiating with them?"

"I gotta say, I'm with the dipshit on this one." Rick pointed to the surgeon with the thumb of his free hand. "Did you get a look at your surveillance camera footage? They say size isn't doesn't matter, but damn... their ship's easily gotta be twenty times bigger than yours. As soon as you open the doors or give them any kind of access, they're gonna swarm in and pillage everything you own."

As Ricktus placed the microphone back down, his vaguely discontent expression relaxed. "You think I don't know that?" He turned his head down towards his pet insect and he became thoughtful. "But we have an entire army of angry predators at our disposal, and they're willing to defend the colony with their lives if it comes under attack."

"You think that's gonna help you?" Rick raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't take a genius to work out that you're outnumbered. I still say we trigger an explosion and portal outta here, i-it's not too late."

"What is with your obsession of wanting to blow everything up?!" Ricktus angrily threw his hands in the air. "We may actually stand to gain out of this and all you can think of is that? Not every solution involves destroying things!"

Rick was curious and attempted to sit up properly, but thought better of it when the sudden movement sent fresh spikes of pain through his midsection. "Y-you... you have another idea?"

"Sort of," the reply was instantaneous. "This gives us an opportunity to gather more intel on our enemy and learn how they differ from the ones that exist in other universes. I also want to know what this 'deadly weapon' is, though I have a sneaking suspicion that it's either something the previous owners used in their planetary conquest, the colony itself, or... us. I can't think of any other reason why they'd bother following us so readily into deep space."

"Fair theories," Rick admitted, not finding reason to argue. "But if it's us they want, then it means you can't give into their demands unless you're even more of a sadistic fuck than I thought you were. Do you have ANY idea what the Gromflomites do to their prisoners? I-I don't want to be too explicit, but let's just say it involves your genitals, electrified probes, and-"

"Relax," the doctor raised a hand to stop him, "I'd never hand myself or either of you over to the likes of them. My entire job exists to prevent that from happening." He rolled his eyes in disgust. "It's pretty obvious that they have no intention of letting us go, but I still want to meet with them and witness their arrogance for myself. If there's any chance of negotiation, we have to take it... I'll use the hive as backup. We might be outnumbered, but we're certainly not outmatched."

"It's a shitty idea," Rick shook his head. "You know every last one of the mindless drones out there knows how to work a laser blaster, right? Unless your stupid insects know how to do the same thing, then they're basically target practice. I say cut your losses and run while you can."

"I'm with the new guy," Surgeon Rick suddenly pointed to Rick; he'd been patiently listening through the whole conversation and finally decided to chime in. "Don't risk it, boss. Just take the safe route and get outta here."

"Yes, you've both made your opinions quite clear on this, but we're not voting on it because it isn't a democracy. This is my ship and we're doing it my way, so if you've gotten over your mutinous streak I could actually use you both as backup." Ricktus glared hard at one Rick, and then at the other. "If all else fails, then I might be open to... other ideas. I'd like to spend more time discussing it, but we can't keep our contact waiting."

"Promise?" Surgeon Rick enthusiastically sprang off his chair. "Because if you say something like that, you gotta follow through."

The doctor was unimpressed as he watched his assistant's movements. "Well, you still have the option of shooting me and doing whatever the hell you want."

"Hmm, lemme think about it," Surgeon Rick playfully elbowed his boss in the chest as he moved past him. "Just between us, you'd probably like that, wouldn't you?"

Ricktus ignored him and turned his attention down towards Rick, having noticed he wasn't standing yet. "Get moving, B-526. You're still my prisoner, after all."

Rick merely huddled forwards in the chair.

"You're still feeling that bad? You should have gone back to your room like I told you to." As the other stood tall in front of Rick's chair, he adopted a posture of superiority. "If it's any consolidation, I can instruct the guards to send you straight to the Citadel infirmary when they come to take you away. Until then, get up off your ass and follow us."

"Oh, hey." Surgeon Rick suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Do you still have that bottle of, uh... stuff I gave you?"

"Y-yeah." Rick took it out and gave it a shake to demonstrate, then finished off the remaining contents without waiting for instructions.

"What the... that better not be what I think it is!" Ricktus stared at the bottle with a look of angry disbelief. "Where the hell did you get it?"

"Stole it," Surgeon Rick admitted with a casual shrug. "If my job is screwed, I might as well go through the rest of the confessions, yeah? I've been stealing your shit pretty much every day since I got here, and I've been growing kalaxian crystals inside the ventilation ducts. Oh, and you know those coffee cans that keep going missing? That was me too."

"I-it's pretty fucking obvious considering we're the only two people who work here! Consider yourself fired!" Ricktus stamped a foot on the ground in a childish rage. While wanted to lose it, he knew there were much more important things to attend to. "Fuck it," he dismissed it with a sharp wave and turned to head out of the terminal hub. "The damn Council can have both of you. Until then, if you have any decency left, you will shut up and help me try and get out of this mess."

Surgeon Rick thrust both fists in the air. "Fuck yeah, unemployment, bro! Let's go fuck up some shit!"

Ricktus stared back at him. "Your... your priorities are so messed up..."

* * *

The hinges of a maintenance hatch that hadn't been opened for many years groaned in protest as the atmospheric seals and locking pins moved out of position. As the ramp descended, torrents of syrup and dense atmospheric vapor spilled onto to the floor of the loading dock below.

The first one out was a member of the hive and while it wasn't shot at, more than a hundred laser sights were already trained on it by the time it was on the ground. A large group of more hybrid bee-insects cautiously scuttled out after it, and then the party of three followed behind them.

Surgeon Rick frowned when one of the laser sights was aimed straight between his eyes. "Wow, friendly reception. On a scale of one to fucked, where do you think we are right now?"

"Shut up," Ricktus grumpily replied, "I got this." A wide fake grin grew across his face as he traveled the rest of the way down the ramp and he raised both hands up in a peaceful gesture. "Come now, what kind of welcome is this? I thought we were exchanging goods and ideas, not preparing for a firefight."

Unsurprisingly, none of the armored drones said anything and merely parted to make way for their commander as he strolled through them.

This was the first time that Rick actually had a chance to see the size of ship from the outside. It would have stretched further than his visible vantage point if not for the fact it was too long to fit inside the loading dock it was now parked in; the doors it had been dragged through were now sealed around it and partially crushed the front half, pinning it down like a vice. Years of interstellar skirmishes had also scarred what armor plating he could see and large chunks of space debris were still embedded in the hull. If the reason the Gromflomites had called it 'garbage' wasn't obvious before, it was now; it looked like little more than beaten up space trash.

While the other ships in the area were more or less standard fare for what normally existed in the Gromflomite's fleet, something in particular had caught the scientist's gaze. Affixed to the far wall was a wide glass column that ran vertically from ceiling to floor, and there was so much raw energy coursing through it that was being used as a light source. It didn't seem to serve any functional purpose for the ships surrounding it, but it had to have some major significance as it was just too out of place to ignore.

Further inspection of the loading bay revealed that they were completely shut in. There was no obvious way to escape and the Gromflomites must have known it themselves for they had dispatched a fairly light number of armed forces this time around. Of course, Rick knew that the situation could escalate at any given moment, yet chose to say nothing and hung around in the back to continue silently observing.

"Oh wow, you're bipedal mammals," the uniformed commander did not hide his surprise as he scrutinized the three spiky haired males standing nearby. "Are they still killing each other over primitive resources? The alliance must have been really desperate to bother collaborating with the tiny ball of water and dirt you come from."

"They didn't," Ricktus hastily responded, not really wanting to get into it. "Look, do you want to chat or do you want to trade? Because I'm not handing anything over until I see something I like."

"Oh, that all depends on what you want, now doesn't it." The Gromflomite commander's mouth-parts eagerly flapped as he spoke. "Do you have the weapon? I don't see it."

The doctor extended his left arm and his pet insect hybrid sprang up onto it, taking care not injure her master with her chitinous armored claws. "You dragged the whole ship in here, so technically you have it already, don't you?"

The Gromflomite commander was displeased and all civilities were dropped. "That's not what I asked. Did you bring the weapon or not?"

The doctor deliberately kept his expression calm. "I brought some of the hive along if you wanted them. I can't guarantee their loyalty and it'll take me time to grow you a new queen, but-"

" _We do not have a queen,"_ Fleur's collar happily squawked over him. _"We operate on a beneficial autocracy."_

"Oh really?" Ricktus hadn't expected the bee to run her mouth off like that, but maybe she always had; she just never had the translator to decipher her buzzing into words before. "If you don't have a queen, then how does the hive function? Who's your leader?"

 _"You are, maker."  
_  
"I don't want your dumb bugs, mammal." the Gromflomite commander said the word as if it were an insult. "I want the weapon we came for. Bring it to me or I will blast you out of existence."

"Whoa, and there it is. Called it!" Surgeon Rick happily thrust a fist in the air.

"Shut up!" Ricktus snapped, finally losing his patience. "Look, I didn't take part in the alliance-whatever mass planetary genocide thing... is that what you're after? Because I didn't even know about it until a few hours ago. Why don't you just describe this damn weapon to me? I don't know what it looks like."

"Oh, I think you do," the commander rested his arms behind his back. "Do you expect me to believe you haven't seen it? It's impossible to miss. You see, we've been trying to track it down since the day you escaped from us. At first it was nothing to worry about, but now it's grown into something that has the potential to destroy us and possibly the entire galaxy. There's nothing else quite like it, it's..." he casually paced across the floor as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "Some kind of super intelligent bioweapon."

Even though he'd seen it coming, Ricktus still felt an uneasiness growing in the pit of his stomach as his speculations were turned into fact; the 'weapon' was indeed them. The timing of the first attack suddenly made sense - it directly correlated with his arrival on the ship and now they had returned for the same reason. He knew he should have listened to the other Ricks behind him, but he just couldn't let the ship go. As he silently regarded the insect hybrid still on his arm, they exchanged a wordless understanding; even though her eyes were unblinking and expressionless, she seemed to pick up on the same thing he was thinking.

There was no turning back and she was the one trick he had left up his sleeve. Literally.

"You're welcome to go up there and look for yourself," the doctor slowly motioned towards the hatch behind him. "I just need some kind of guarantee that you'll let us go after you find what you need."

"No need," came the blase reply from the commander. "If you don't cooperate, we'll just kill you and take it anyway."

"See, I called that too," Rick grumpily stated. "Why are we doing this again? O-oh that's right, because you made us... are you satisfied now? Can we go? I'm kinda bored and I wanna get back to Morty."

"Oh, you're not leaving. You were never going to." As the Gromflomite commander took out his blaster, the armed drones behind him retrained their laser sights on the group. "We always knew mammals were greedy, but we didn't know you were gullible too. We didn't even have to think of any clever bait to draw you out of your hiding place and now you're just willingly standing there. Any last words?"

"Yeah, actually," Rick's tone suggested that he wasn't the least bit perturbed or surprised by the turn of events. "What's that thing all about?" He pointed to the glowing glass tube he had seen earlier.

"Oh, that?" The commander turned his head towards it and actually sounded proud as he began to explain. "That's the energy conduit to our ecosystem killer. Yeah, fire up that baby on the surface of any terrestrial planet and boom, it turns everything into instant stardust."

Rick seethed with a silent rage; it had been spoken like it was nothing at all. He would have blown the commander's head clean off his shoulders if not for the fact that he was unarmed.

In the short time that followed, he didn't even have to. While the commander was distracted, Fleur abused the opportunity to whip out her curled proboscis and snatch the plasma blaster from his clawed claspers. Before he could even react, it was secure in her mandibles and she dumped more than half the clip straight into his skull.

The corpse hadn't even hit the ground before the loading bay erupted into a frenzy of plasma beam fire and insects of opposing species trying to destroy each other. Rick was knocked down and partially crushed under the protective weight of the surrounding hive members who had chosen to shield him. He barely had time to push one off as he was splattered with inky-purple insect guts; one of the Gromflomite drones that was flying directly over his head was crushed in the vice of a bee's scythe claws and after determining her prey was dead, she busied herself with dismembering the corpse and devouring its head.

"I guess that answers your question, Rick!" Ricktus jeered at him from his own place on the floor. "Looks like they DO know how to work the laser blasters. Hah, look at them go!"

"That's a pretty fucked up thing to be happy about, boss!" Surgeon Rick called back to him. "Do you wanna spend that time discussing what we're supposed to do now?"

"We might want to consider sitting this one out." Ricktus picked a stray plasma blaster off a corpse and stuffed it into the waiting mouth of one of the bees. "You're always wanting to chill. Now's a good time."

It was hard to tell who was winning; while the Gromflomite drones had tactical advantage at range, they were still nothing but fodder to the bee's scythes once they were in close proximity. The bees themselves were also highly adaptive; after watching how their hive sibling held the weapon she was given, more of them took up arms to copy her. Just as their numbers started dwindling, another wave of them of surged from the ship's maintenance hatch to join the fight.

"You seriously wanna stay here?!" Rick angrily brushed bits of exoskeleton and bug guts out of his hair. "It's only a matter of time before-"

Although he never got to finish, the very thing he meant to say was already happening; the back of the loading bay had opened up and hundreds more armed reinforcements began pouring in. They immediately opened fire and the entire loading bay turned into yet another heated skirmish. However, this time the bees were not at a disadvantage and they fired the Gromflomite's own weapons back on them. The ones in close range had gone into a murderous frenzy and it was very apparent that their scythe claws made them the superior insect; any unfortunate drones who managed to get caught in their swing were butchered like flies.

"Oh shit..." The rising panic was clearly audible in Surgeon Rick's voice as he lay flat against the floor. "Can we run now...?"

"Yeah," Ricktus was distracted; he seemed far more interested in watching the brutality of his own creations. "Head back into the ship. It's not a good option, but we'll be safer there."

His pet bee wiggled impatiently from her spot on the ground nearby; she wanted to join her sisters. _"Can I stay here and hunt more food?"_

"No, Fleur." Ricktus sighed at her. "Follow us. I might need you to co-ordinate the rest of the hive."

Fortunately for all of them, the Gromflomites were completely preoccupied with the bees while they retreated across the loading bay and back up the ship's ramp. Unfortunately for Surgeon Rick, his ankle slowed him to the rear of the group and he caught a stray plasma round in the right shoulder. It struck him with such force that it sent him barreling off his feet and he hit the ramp with a hard metallic thud, the contents of his scrubs spilling out onto the loading bay below. His datapad, two vials of injectable solution, and his portal gun scattered straight off the edge and into the middle of the heated crowd.

"Son of a BITCH!" He howled, though it was difficult to tell if it was because of the pain or because he'd just lost something so vitally important.

Ricktus reacted instinctively; he whipped out his own datapad and remotely activated the portal gun's self-destruct mechanism. "Get in the ship." After stuffing the device back into his coat, he grabbed the first flailing limb he could get his hands on and began awkwardly hauling his assistant the rest of the way up the ramp.

Rick rolled his eyes and grabbed another leg to help out. "You're really bad at not getting shot, aren't you?"

Surgeon Rick didn't reply; he was too busy writhing in agony while he desperately clutched at his shoulder in protest to the searing pain tearing through it.

While some of the drones had stopped fighting to inspect the new device in their loading bay, it didn't last very long; the portal gun's self-destruct timer finished counting down and the plasma core destabilized, collapsing in on itself. There was a brief implosion, which was followed by a violent explosion of green and white light and everything standing in its immediate proximity was instantly vaporized.

Satisfied with the result, Ricktus activated the mechanism to shut and lock the maintenance hatch again. "Don't be so careless next time, C-711. The Council's going to be pissed about that one." He moved to crouch down beside him. "Quit your whining and sit up so I can look at it."

Surgeon Rick hissed with considerable discomfort, but did as he was told. "T-to be fair, the Council is pissed about most things..."

After spending a few minutes poking and prodding the affected area, the doctor stood at his full height again. "It's just a plasma burn. You're going to need medical attention and pain relief, but it's relatively superficial. You're making a big fuss over nothing."

"F-fuck... easy for you to say," Surgeon Rick grumpily returned, "YOU try dealing with it!"

"I've been there before, you'll be fine." Rick shrugged. "So what now? You DO realize we're sitting ducks here, right? Unless you have some kind of miraculous plan involving forcing the entire ship through the tiny hole they've jammed it in, you're basically screwed... and while I'm sure there's a joke in that somewhere, I can't be bothered to make it. Ugh, whatever. Can you even pilot this stupid ship all by yourself?"

"No, but I'll figure something out," the doctor sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "Just need time..."

"You don't HAVE any!" Rick very much wanted to smack him upside the head. "Oh, you done did it now... aside from not giving them what they want, now you've murdered one of their leaders and pissed them off too! Your ship's trapped, you moron! There's no way you're getting it out of here in one piece, let alone any. What's so great about it that you're willing to risk dying trying to save it?"

"Y-yeah, what are you holding onto so bad?" Surgeon Rick looked up at him. "Give it up, man... there's nothing here for you any more."

"You don't understand! Neither of you do..." Ricktus turned his back on them. "I can't leave. This place is my main source of income and the Council needs us to keep carrying out the work we do here. I-I still haven't even finished what I came here to do in the first place!"

"Let it go already, it's a lost cause." Rick growled in frustration. "Even if you'd had advance warning, your chances of escaping with the ship intact still would have been shitty at best. The Gromflomites are gonna fuck you up in every way possible unless you do something about it. Are you really that stubborn that you're gonna risk giving them the opportunity to steal all your shit just because of something you want?"

"No, but," Ricktus hesitated; he saw the logic in the scientist's words, but was still heavily conflicted. "I need the ship... even without the cloning tanks, I need this place to earn enough money for... well..."

"Dude," Surgeon Rick interjected. "We get it. You know the Council can assign you another job, right? There's other ways to get what you want. Just let it go, man, everything's gonna be OK."

"But... what about the colony? What happens to them?"

Surgeon Rick frowned; he did not have an answer.

As if on cue, a loud hammering began from the maintenance hatch door. The sound of metal ringing against metal could be heard as the door was repeatedly battered from the outside.

Ricktus lowered his head and just stood there, staring at the floor. After several moments of internal deliberation, he pinched his brow and heaved a deep resigning sigh. "If you did light it up, hypothetically speaking... how would you do it?"

Rick turned his head to glower out the nearest window, his attention back on the glowing plasma conduit in the loading bay. "I got a couple of ideas, but I'm gonna need your ship's schematics. What kind of engine does it have?"

"A crappy combustion engine, powered by a seriously outdated cold fusion reactor," Ricktus quietly answered, "I was developing a new fuel source before we were attacked. Its the whole reason the hive exists."

"Yeah, I already read that stuff in your stupid diary," Rick grumbled. "Well, it's not amazing, but I can make it work. So are you with me? You wanna help make a bomb?"

The only answer he received was silence. When he realized both Ricks were staring at him with blank unknowing expressions on their faces, he smacked a hand against his forehead and loudly groaned.

"Great... of all the Ricks in the multiverse, I had to get stuck with the two idiots who don't even know how to build a goddamn incendiary device... j-just fucking wonderful!"


	27. Bropocalypse

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is unofficial fanfiction. Please support the official release.

 **NOTE:** FINALLY got this done, OH MY GOD (thanks for bearing with me so long!). This chapter took far too long because of how plot-heavy it is and how much is being wound up. Write time for the next couple should be faster. Please note that this chapter contains descriptions of graphic violence and explosions, but you kinda knew it was coming, didn't you? As always, reviews (and even constructive criticism) are loved! You can drop me questions any time on my Tumblr at RickAndMortyByKat :)

Also, check out the original publish date. This sucker is nearly a year old. :P

* * *

 **Chapter 27 – Bropocalypse**

 **December 2nd, 6:15pm , Local Ship Time, 2001  
Unnamed Nebula, Space  
'Verdant Harbinger'  
(currently jammed inside a bigger ship whose name is unknown)  
Dimension Q-316  
**

* * *

Back in the terminal hub, Rick was deep in thought as he pored over specification papers and a large unfurled roll containing the ship's layout, while Ricktus tended to Surgeon Rick's plasma burn. The sound of repeated hammering on the ship's armor plating was distant but unmistakable; the Gromflomites were working desperately to break through to the inside.

"There are four components to a bomb," Rick's voice was flat and like that of a teacher having to explain a simple concept to a small child. "You already have the explosives, so you're good there. All you need is a power supply, a detonator to trigger the explosion, and some kind of remote activation device. All of that shit can either be found or made in your electronics lab, so-"

"Stay still," Ricktus held his assistant down by his left shoulder while he applied a liberal amount of burn ointment to his right. "I've treated children who were more tolerant than you."

"It hurts, OK?!" Surgeon Rick sharply reminded him. "It feels like my whole back is on fire!"

"Do you think it's going to hurt less if you keep moving around?" Ricktus's tone was vaguely grumpy, but he persisted until he'd finished up. "I'd offer you some pain relief but you probably have something better hidden away, don't you?"

Surgeon Rick turned his head off to the side and his reply was little more than an unintelligible mutter.

"Ugh, shut up and pay attention! Do you think I'm going to let you sit there while I do everything?" Rick growled at both of them. "You told me you wanted to learn how to make bombs, so today is your lucky day. I-it's not even like it's difficult, I mean, Morty could probably learn this stuff by his fourth birthday." His gaze drifted along the long reel of paper he had been busy looking at and he tapped a finger on the lower half. "That's a big-ass cargo hold. You said this was a mining ship, right?"

"Y-yeah," Surgeon Rick barely tolerated the bandaging process, but sat through it with both hands gripped tight on his knees. "Don't know what's there... n-never had a reason to go near it..."

Rick's gaze turned into a glare that he fixed on the doctor. "Well? What's down there? No more secrets and no more classified bullshit."

"If I knew, I would tell you." Ricktus did not look up and tore a strip of medical tape off the roll he was holding. "The truth is, I've never had a reason to go there either. We only really use the oxygenated areas of the ship to live and work in. If there is something of value stored there, it's most likely some kind of resource that can be used as fuel or exchanged for money." He carefully smoothed the tape down over his assistant's bandages and ripped off another piece.

"Yeah, no shit!" Rick barked at him. "Thanks for reminding me why people mine stuff!"

Fleur's antennae flicked high over her head as she listened to the exchange; she didn't understand why they were acting so strangely and wanted to help. Without warning, she jumped up and landed on Rick's desk to look at the ship's layout for herself.

"H-hey!" Rick growled. "Get off that, I'm working here!"

The insect completely ignored him and bobbed her head up and down, trying to make sense of the picture before her, though it didn't take her long to work out what she was looking at. _"Brood grows here. Workers mature and then join the rest of the hive."  
_  
"See, I don't get that," Ricktus gave Surgeon Rick a singular pat on the back to indicate that he was done with him, then moved towards her. "There's thousands of you, yet you told me you don't have a queen and there's no way you could've created a viable gene pool from only half a dozen live specimens. Where are all the babies coming from, Fleur?"

 _"Brooder cells,"_ the insect happily responded as she sat down on top of the ship documentation. _"When there is need of more siblings, we grow them in the same way you did, maker."_

"Wait..." the doctor was silent as he comprehended her statement. "THAT'S why you won't let me near my own cloning tanks!? Can't you share? I'd only need one, and maybe for a few days at most."

"Yeah, right... do you think we have 'a few days' here? Why is this more important than what we're supposed to be doing?" Rick growled in irritation and shoved the bee off his paperwork. "Fuck off already!"

The insect wasn't in the least bit fazed by the aggressive treatment. _"Brooder cells belong to the hive."_

"Shut up, Rick! This is important to me!" Ricktus snapped at him before returning his attention back towards his pet insect. "Need I remind you that this is MY ship and that everything in it is mine?" He was nearly yelling now. "All of you belong to me! I made all of you. I'm practically your father!"

 _"You left us to fend for ourselves,"_ the collar chirped. _"After the fire and gas killed the food for us, we only continued what you started."_

"Shit... I can barely make sense of this, but I'd like to spend more time sitting down and talking about it with you." Ricktus sank into one of the chairs closest to Rick's table. "If we get out of this one alive, I want to broker some kind of agreement to get back into the cloning facility. You can have the whole ship after I get what I need..."

 _"No,"_ the insect's posture became rigid. _"We already own it. You will never get near them again."_

"Why...?" The doctor was suddenly a mix of suspicion and anger.

As Fleur stood on the edge of the table, her expressionless unblinking eyes stared hard at him and she raised her scythe claws up in a threatening defensive display. _"We know what you did to our predecessors. If you make my species obsolete, will you put us down too? Why do you make life just to kill it?"_

Well, that's a loaded question if ever I heard one... you too, huh? Are you all plotting against me!?" Ricktus reared his head back. "If you still want to know why I created you, it certainly wasn't to kill you, Fleur. But if it's any consolidation, it doesn't even matter. Everything only exists to die and nothing means anything, not even me. If you think you're pointless, well... welcome to the club. We all are."

The insect lowered her claws again as the crushing statement hit her. _"...what do I do now?"_

"Whatever you want," Ricktus replied matter-of-factly. "It literally doesn't matter."

"Oh god, not this shit again," Surgeon Rick groaned as he pulled the top half of his scrubs back over his head. "You DO realize that your set of choices made up the reality of your universe, right?"

Rick's gaze shifted to each one to as they spoke, and then he yanked the roll of paper out from under the insect. "None of you have time to discuss this!" He stepped away from the table and motioned for them to follow. "C'mon, we gotta get outta here. You don't want your new friends to catch us standing around like this."

The comment put Ricktus's mind back on track and he nodded once in agreement. "Right," he stood up again. "Where are we going?"

"Great... you really ARE gonna make me do everything, aren't you?" Rick rolled his eyes. "If you were actually paying attention to what I was saying before, then you would have learned that we gotta make a detonator. I hope you know how to use a soldering iron. I also suggest sticking together because you have the only working portal gun." He scowled back at the doctor. "I hope it was worth depriving me of mine. So much for that lesson about never going anywhere without it, right?"

"Not a good time, Rick..." Ricktus placed a hand on his forehead and groaned.

"Yeah, you're telling me!" Rick spat back. "Fucking moron! I-it's like you don't have any foresight at all. Things would have been SO much better if you'd just listened to me back in that alleyway. You still think I murdered that Rick, don't you?"

It wasn't something the doctor wanted to answer, but then he didn't have to; there were three muffled explosions in quick succession. When the deep rumble resounded through the ship shortly after them, it was clear that the Gromflomites had finally breached the hull.

"Well, shit..." Rick sounded genuinely concerned. "That's... gonna make things complicated. You might be better off working a plasma gun instead."

"Now that," Ricktus smirked suddenly; in a strange way he was glad for the distraction, "I can do."

"Good to hear you're not completely fucking useless." Rick muttered as he made his way into the corridor, suddenly feeling far less confident than he had been before; whatever he did, he would have to work quickly. Crazy ideas were tumbling together in his mind and he wasn't even sure he could pull them off, but he had little other choice but to go with what he knew - making it up as he went along and hoping for the best.

* * *

On route to the electronics lab, the group passed by the portal hub or at least what was left of it; the back half of the corridor had been so badly crumpled in the last attack that it was barely recognizable. The machine itself lay crushed and bent where it had fallen with broken pieces haphazardly scattered across the warped metal floor.

"Huh... well that explains why the Citadel guards never arrived." Ricktus sounded vaguely bothered by the discovery. "We can't even call for backup now."

Rick moved into the sparking wreckage with a screwdriver in hand and took apart the remains of the portal hub. Once he'd ripped out the plasma core, he made his way back out and continued along as if nothing had happened at all.

"Yo! Good thinking, bro," Surgeon Rick called out behind him. "You gonna blow that up too?"

"Yeah, but," Rick paused to scowl at him, "I'm doing your job for you. As much as I hate your stupid Council, they make a very compelling argument. I don't particularly want the Gromflomites to fuck the multiverse over either, i-it's bad for all of us. Is there any other multidimensional tech on board I should know about?"

"Only Rick D-491's portal gun." Ricktus sourly responded; its unknown whereabouts still greatly troubled him.

Rick turned his head back to give him a moment of silent regard, but the far off noises of gunfire and alien screams reminded him that their destination was far more important. "If we're smart about how we set this thing off, you'll never have to worry about it again."

"I'm still not OK with you blowing up my ship." The doctor took a deep breath and thrust his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah?" The grumpy undertone briefly left the scientist's voice. "I doubt I would be either."

Up ahead, a group of bees silently stalked in an organized pack. The leader stopped taste the air with her proboscis, then four came up from her rear to take out a Gromflomite assassin that had been hiding in the corridor. It was executed with such swiftness that it didn't make a sound as it died.

"Geez, these guys really aren't wasting any time," Rick's voice was quiet as he announced his observations. "If I didn't want them to die so bad, I'd have suggested running away a long time ago."

"Why do you even care?" Although the question was a serious one, the doctor managed to speak it as if it were an insult. "This isn't your dimension or your battle to fight, or even your problem to deal with!"

"You think I give a shit about that?" There was a bitter edge to the scientist's question. "These fuckers need to die no matter where they are!"

No more was spoken but the rest of the trip certainly wasn't made in silence; the invading Gromflomites made their presence known as the fight drew ever closer. Although they were tenacious fighters and quick to infiltrate the corridors, the bees knew their own territory better and the close quarters put them at a serious advantage.

In the electronics lab, the situation was far more heated. Armored drones tore down box after box down from shelves as they ransacked and scoured the room. They appeared to be so desperate in their search that Rick could only draw one probable conclusion – they were looking for the 'deadly weapon' they had wanted so badly. They were so preoccupied with it that they were willingly letting themselves be stung and killed by the hive and where one fell, another simply continued on in its place.

A superior grin grew across his face as he made his way across to one of the workbenches; they literally had no idea what the 'weapon' was.

He would make them suffer for that oversight.

In almost no time at all, the scientist had gathered up the tools and components he needed from the mess all around him and was busy fabricating the remote activation device to the backdrop of gunfire and insect screams. The other two Ricks seemed to have forgotten all about their bomb making lesson and joined in the skirmish, adding to the cacophony with their own plasma guns and taunts. While Rick wasn't particularly impressed about it, they were keeping the Gromflomites off his back so he wasn't about to stop them either.

When a couple of stray shots sailed directly over his head, he retreated under the table and worked faster, though what he was throwing together now was literally screwing around and pulling it out of his head. Rick had always been an innovative thinker who survived on impulse and creative solutions and now was no different. However, working in the middle of a firefight was new, even for him.

The remote activation device was a total rush job and he knew it, though it would soon prove to be one of the worst things he would ever make.

"Chew on THAT, motherfucker!"

"Suck it, douchebags!"

"Lick, lick, lick my balls!"

Rick couldn't even discern who was who; no matter how incompetent or 'lesser' the other Ricks had demonstrated themselves to be, they were still behaving with the same sadistic joy as he did when faced with the opportunity to murder something that deserved it.

He couldn't help but grin at the thought.

The detonator was finished shortly afterwards, but it was made with far more care than the device before it. By the time he was ready to come out from his hiding place, the floor of the electronics lab was littered with the bodies of drones and bees alike. Although the fight was still ongoing, some of the surviving hive members had retreated out of the way to glue the wounded back together with regurgitated syrup and their curled sticky tongues. Some had missing limbs and others had been torn apart, while the worst of them had gaping wounds in their head carapaces. One was so badly injured that its brain was exposed, but it didn't seem to care.

"It's done," Rick announced as he held up both half-assed projects still warm from the soldering process. "All you gotta do now is install this baby in the ship's reactor and it'll trigger a chain reaction explosion." He nodded to the detonator, and then at the remote device. "There's a thirty second delay timer display on this one to give you time to escape. I definitely do NOT advise being on the ship when it all goes off unless you have a death wish."

"No comment," Surgeon Rick playfully jeered back with a grin. He was about to say more, but instead turned away to shoot at a pair of stray Gromflomite drones that were scaling a shelf near his position. "So, nuking the reactor, huh? Yeah, I see where you're going with that but how are you gonna get in there? Is it safe to breathe in?"

"Only one way to find out," Rick took out his datapad to access the information, but his expression turned to a deep scowl. "It's fucking classified... w-why is everything so damn locked down!?"

"You complain about it now, but it might buy you more time." Ricktus fired three shots across the room as he made his way towards the scientist, then handed over his own datapad. "Shut up and take this. I'd ask you not to read my personal information, but you already have, so... whatever, I don't care."

Rick wasted no time accessing what he needed on the new device. "Well, the reactor room is on the oxygen safe list, but..." He narrowed his eyes in thought. "How long ago was this updated? What if we turn up and encounter more of that metabolic air contamination bullshit? I say we take in those glass domes and oxygen packs like we did before."

"Bad idea," Ricktus immediately countered. "Even if the security measures do stall the Gromflomites, it's safe to assume they'll be everywhere soon enough... they're not stupid, either. I can guarantee you they'll target our breathing equipment the second they spot us. If the atmosphere in the reactor does turn out to be toxic, you'll die the second your containment bulb is shattered. It's not worth the risk."

Rick's brow creased; it certainly wasn't something he could argue with.

"Don't let it stop you," the other reluctantly continued; he was still coming to terms with the fact he was likely going to lose everything. "If you get down there and it's unsafe, then just ask the hive to install the detonator for you. All they would need is a few simple instructions."

"I wouldn't know where to put it," Rick admitted, "I need time to look at the layout."

Ricktus snorted with dry laughter. "You really ARE pulling this out of your ass, aren't you?"

"Yep," the scientist's reply was instant; he had no problem with openly admitting to it. He gave Surgeon Rick a quick glance, and then his eyes were back on the datapad. "You doing OK over there?"

"Yeah, bro!" Surgeon Rick immediately motioned with a thumb up and there was an obvious gleam of happiness in his eyes. "I mean it still hurts, but this is awesome! I get to kill as much shit as I want. This the most fun I've had in ages!"

"Good to hear. There's hope for you yet..." Rick mumbled as he scoured over a digital copy of the ship's map, his mind back in deep thought; he still hadn't formulated a proper plan to remotely activate the explosion just yet, but dropping the detonator into the reactor was one step he wouldn't be able to bypass. No matter what he did, he knew he wouldn't be able to leave the dimension until he was absolutely certain that the chain reaction had been started.

As he watched the other Ricks from the corner of his eye, he realized that he might actually need their help on this one.

* * *

" _What the hell are they doing?"_

It was what Morty would have been thinking if his brain operated in words. He'd barely settled from another round of crying about not getting what he wanted and now the weird orange furry creature was flailing around in front of him, while the taller one silently stood nearby. Although they managed to distract him, he still found their behavior concerning, almost alarming to witness.

When the short one took a tentative step towards him, he reflexively retreated; although he was wet and hungry, neither issues were pressing enough for him to demand attention from either of them. When the feathery one reached out towards him, his response was a loud shriek of alarm and he scooted under the couch to hide.

"Squanchin' hell!" He heard the scratchy voice somewhere nearby. "I can't endure any more of this bullshit! Frightened humans must be even worse than squanch cubs. When do they like, get over it, squanch up and get smart?"

"I am not sure," the sound of a calm deep voice replied, "I knew very little about Rick and his species to begin with because he was reluctant to talk about himself whenever the opportunity arose, but however little we know, it seems that waiting for him to adapt to us is the most reliable thing to do."

"Screw that... get rid of it! Would that weird lady take him?"

"My neighbor? It would not do to thrust the problem onto her. I know that Rick suggested using her help, but he ultimately entrusted Morty to us."

The shorter creature made a loud hiss. "And ya' don't think her help is needed now? Put that damn thing out of its misery or get rid of it, 'cause if I have to listen to any more of its goddamn screaming, I'm gonna squanch myself!"

"Do not do anything drastic, Squanchy. You will also regret harming Morty on the grounds that he is an inconvenience to you." The other voice became slightly less calm. "I will go alert my neighbor to his plight because I cannot allow this to continue, but I feel that some understanding is required on your behalf. He has been deprived of his grandfather and is grieving over his loss. You would do well to sympathize with that."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Although the word existed in the youngster's vocabulary, he did not understand why it was being used so grumpily as he listened on.

"Do not make such a suggestion again," the deeper voice continued, "I refuse to abandon Rick's successor as it is disrespectful. He was a key element in winning the Battle of Blood Ridge and he is the reason that Bird World continues to stand at all. Do you not think that Morty might have similar potential to Rick if he is only given the chance to grow?" He paused to allow a moment of silence, hoping the seriousness of his words would sink in. "It is apparent that we need to destroy the Galactic Federation now more so than ever. Do not overlook the possibility that we may have already been provided with the solution."

"Just go get her," Squanchy grumbled through his teeth, not wanting to hear any more. "I don't know how much more of this I can squanch."

"You are welcome to leave any time. Remember that."

With that, the tall one departed and Morty was left alone again with the strange orange creature. When he saw its flicking fuzzy tail, he finally came out from his hiding place to play, having learned from experience that it was fun.

Squanchy turned sideways and made a bitter hiss, not really appreciating the gesture. However, when he heard the soft whimpers, he was quick to move back again, unwilling to argue and even feeling a little guilty over what he had just said. Having his appendages tugged on was far more tolerable than the ear-piercing squeals he'd been subjected to before.

When the feathery bird woman finally did come in through the front door of the tree house, neither her scent or familiar presence would entice the little boy to seek her out. He waited to see if anyone else would follow her inside, but when nobody did, he was upset all over again. Morty was far too young to have any conscious way of understanding what was happening and his only persistent thought was getting back to Rick; he simply didn't know why he'd been away for so long and the thought sent his mood plummeting again.

He decided it was time to give them all a crash-course in temper tantrums.

It started out as a little but determined whining noise; he'd tried it before on his parents with limited success, but he'd seen Rick do it and get what he wanted every time so it seemed like an effective strategy. The whine soon grew into a sob as he dramatically threw himself down on the floor and then it got progressively louder until he was bawling at the top of his lungs.

"Agh, that does it!" Squanchy's patience finally fractured beyond repair. "The Feds can have me! Rotting away in one of their prison cells has gotta be better than THIS squanch!" He stomped out of the room.

When he felt the strong pair of arms lift him up, Morty reacted by flailing his limbs and hitting anything he could reach, his loud nonsensical tirade vaguely resembling the word 'no' over and over again. He would not be sated this time; he was too far gone and upset.

Birdperson watched on with a vague degree of concern but did not intervene. "This has an obvious cause but no immediate answer."

"You are right. It does not," Gresharak's sad voice replied. "All you can do is let it happen until he has accepted the changes in his life. I will take care of him for a few hours to settle him down, but it will be up to you to deal with the long term adjustments."

Although Birdperson knew he was giving into Squanchy's demands, he was willing to go along with it for Morty's sake. If he could barely tolerate a few hours of screaming, he didn't know how he was going to endure years of the same.

It hadn't even been a day, and he felt like he'd already failed at what had been asked of him.

* * *

The Gromflomite presence on the way to the reactor was a lot heavier than anticipated and had to be shot at almost constantly just to get anywhere. Although Rick had correctly predicted that they would swarm the ship, it was such an obvious one that there wasn't any point in bragging about it. Instead, he was more concerned with the fact that his condition was deteriorating despite the painkiller substance he'd taken; he felt a heavy pressure building in his abdomen that he knew was definitely not supposed to be there. It was getting so bad that it constricted the capacity of his lungs, making each breath difficult and shallow.

To add insult to injury, the intense desire to drink had returned; it was so persistent that it was virtually all his brain could focus on. He did his best to suppress it all, but his slowed gait and panting were obvious enough to be picked up by the others trailing his lead.

"Holy shit, dude... we seriously need to get you outta here," Surgeon Rick moved up behind him. "I don't wanna lose another brother as it is, but Riq IV is gonna be super pissed at us if you die." He gave Rick a light shove as he stepped within his peripheral vision. "Thanks for not being dead, but you're still a piece of shit for making me think you were."

"I told you it wasn't my fault," Rick growled back. "Once this is over with, then you... y-you can do whatever you want with me. I don't care."

"Are you sure?" Ricktus spoke up from his other side. "We did that when we dragged you out here in the first place, but you weren't particularly impressed with the idea. You finally realized that I was right all along, didn't you?"

Rick stopped to glare at him. "...r-really? You're gonna do that right now?"

"I wish I'd brought my stethoscope along so I could examine you," the doctor was thinking aloud as he continued. "By the sounds of things, you're not going to last much longer."

"Phh... j-just shut up and finish what we started..." Rick resumed his pace, finding it easier to look at the video display of the datapad than at the others either side of him; he didn't particularly want to entertain thoughts of his own demise right now.

The reactor's location would have been easy to find even without a map; the distinctive smell of ozone was prominent the entire way and almost overpowering as they approached the unmarked door.

"Well, it's breathable," Rick admitted as he analyzed the air content. "But I wouldn't stay in there too long unless you like being slowly asphyxiated. I-I don't know if that's your thing, but it's certainly not mine."

"You should sit this one out, B-526." Ricktus firmly told him. "If you're having breathing difficulties now, you may very well pass out once you're inside."

"And risk you fucking up the installation process?" Rick countered. "At least give me a gun so I can shoot something. I don't wanna be stuck out here and unarmed once the Gromflomites swarm this section of the ship too."

"What a great idea... give you the chance to shoot yourself while you're unattended?" Ricktus flattened his brow as much as he could. "Better yet, you could cut off the only exit and shoot us while you're at it. Do you not see the outstanding problems here?"

"So you ARE still on that... f-fuck you." Rick grumpily shoved the handheld computer back at him as he moved past and opened the door.

The biting rush of cold air and condensed mist that billowed onto the floor around his feet caused by the sudden difference in temperature was unpleasant, but the scientist's attention was already was already drawn towards the center of the massive space ahead of them; a pillar shaped engine that towered as high as the eye could see shuddered as it struggled to keep a steady pace. With the entire ship still trapped in the loading bay of the planet-sized ship outside, the engine wanted to keep powering forward and couldn't; it kept stopping and starting and the intermittent bursts of energy being drawn from the reactor it was mounted on were slowly tearing it apart from the inside.

Rick didn't even bother waiting for the others as he crossed the scaffolding bridge towards the center of the structure. The only light source came from the pool of coolant below; even though it was easily sixty feet down, it still managed to illuminate the space in an ambient glow of cyan and light blues.

"Cover me," it was more of an order than a request. "If you're not going to give me a gun, at least hold onto the ones you have and make yourselves useful." He gritted his teeth and grunted with considerable effort as he forced himself to climb the steel lattice that made up the outside of the pillar.

"Are you sure that's wise, B-526?" Ricktus called out. "Shouldn't one of us be doing that for you?"

Rick ignored him and kept climbing. Not even a minute passed when he heard the sounds of gunfire peppering the air again and he took cover behind a solid piece of metal plating to install the detonator, figuring near enough was good enough; as much as he would have liked to get higher and deeper into the engine, it was already half-wrecked and looked ready to collapse in on itself at any given moment.

Down below, the doctor and his assistant had been keeping guard when three shadowy wingless insectoid figures appeared in the doorway. What they lacked in numbers, they made up for in sheer size; they were easily seven feet tall and their armored thoraxes were much bulkier than the other drones they had encountered thus far, making them look almost invincible. The first one had to duck as it came in with a casual stride, then opened fire with the long-barreled weapon it was holding. There were several loud metallic clatters accompanied by sparks where the projectiles struck the scaffolding; whatever the ammunition was, it sounded substantial and definitely wasn't of plasma or energy origin. The second one gave a deep throaty laugh and followed its companion inside, while the third stayed behind to fend off the hive's ongoing assault in the corridor.

Neither Ricks had time to ponder what exactly was being shot at them, nor did they seem to care; their only reaction was to shoot back and rush at them because there was nothing to hide behind. Ricktus's pet insect took to the air and began trying to furiously sting them from above.

If Rick wasn't holding onto something, he would have slapped a hand against his forehead. "Are you insane!?" He bellowed down at them, angered by the display of recklessness. "Do you WANT to die!? Because that's how you die!" He cursed to himself as he hastily ripped a piece of metal piping off the pylon and leaped from his position, landing feet first on the scaffolding bridge below with a loud thud.

Another barrage of projectile shots made a shower of sparks at his feet as he rushed the first one and smashed its head carapace in, splattering bits of exoskeleton and blood all over himself as well as the Gromflomite's co-worker. He put all his might into a second swing, but the pipe only struck armor, so he grabbed the bulky insectoid by the arm and threw it over the side of the bridge.

The move only served to aggravate the second one and it turned on the Ricks closest to it, knocking Surgeon Rick off his feet with the barrel of the weapon it was still holding. In the same movement, it balled its other clawed hand into a fist and slugged Ricktus hard in the sternum, shoving him against the bridge railing and stunning him into a mild stupor; his portal gun was dislodged from his coat pockets in the attack as well as several other small items he had been carrying. One of his curative serum vials made a pretty pink splatter as it smashed open on the ground.

"Hand over the weapon, mammals!" The massive insect demanded as it turned on the last Rick standing. "You know where it is!" It idly swatted at the angry bee still buzzing around its head.

Rick felt his breath catch in his throat and he tasted bile, yet he kept perfectly still, his attention glued to the portal gun; it lay bare and completely unguarded. Above all other objectives, he had to protect it - it was their most viable way off the ship and he simply could not let it fall into the Gromflomite's hands.

The bulky armored insect took note of where the strange little human's focus was and its mouth danglers twitched as it looked down at the curious object as well. "Is that what all the fuss is about?"

Surgeon Rick watched the standoff from his position with a great deal of concern. "What are you thinkin', bro?" He asked quietly, his voice full of trepidation. "You... you're not gonna leave us here, are ya'?"

Rick didn't answer him and threw the piece of metal piping into the distracted insect's face as he lunged forwards to snatch up the portal gun.

The surgeon could only watch on as the seemingly-crazy Rick fired a portal at the pillar several feet above and hoisted himself over the edge of the scaffold, leaping straight into the depths below. Before he could say any more, he heard the sound of another portal opening up far beneath him, and then Rick came barreling out of the first one to crash tackle the Gromflomite with all the momentum he had gathered in the descent. In another second, he had snapped its neck and held on as its lifeless body collapsed under him. Afterwards, he got to his feet and brushed himself off; the whole move had been executed with such flawless precision that Surgeon Rick wondered just how many times he had done it before.

He knew he must have looked stupid, for his charge was glaring at him again.

"Y-you... you think I'd bail on your sorry ass?" Rick actually sounded insulted. "I told you we're gonna blow this thing up, so that's what we're gonna do. Why would I change my mind now?" He paused to catch his breath, then launched into a verbal assault. "You know what you did was fucking crazy, right? What were you even thinking back there? You should have retreated, not charged in like a moron! Do you WANT them to kill you?!"

Ricktus made an uncomfortable coughing sound and rubbed his chest as he came back to his senses, though he considered himself lucky; the blow had only managed to wind him. "To be fair... we're all fucking crazy..."

A singular shot rang out from the doorway and Rick felt a sudden sharp heat lancing through his right hand - the bulky armored Gromflomite in the corridor had just shot the device straight out of his grip. It clattered onto the scaffolding, nearly ripped in half, its luminous green core completely exposed and sputtering dangerously.

"Son of a BITCH!" The scientist roared, but mostly at himself; he'd allowed himself to let his guard down and now their last functional portal gun was broken because of it. In a completely rash move that wasn't one of his smartest, he snatched it up in his good hand, set it to go off, and hurled it straight back at his attacker. Because the portal gun's containment layer had already been breached, the core became unstable and imploded, exploding a second later in a magnificent burning sphere that expanded like a small green sun, vaporizing the insect and part of the doorway with it.

As Rick clutched his hand to stop the bleeding, he watched on with a spiteful grin; at the very least it was satisfying to watch the Gromflomite die by the destruction it had just caused.

"What... w-what the hell did you do that for...?"

Rick turned his attention back towards the others; they were both staring at him with confused looks on their faces. As much as he wanted to explode in a rage, he didn't; he knew he had to remain level-headed if he wanted to keep thinking rationally.

"Don't worry about it," he tried to sound reassuring, but that was difficult when he wasn't even sure what to do himself; the last working portal gun's demise was going to make things considerably more difficult. "It would have taken too long to fix and there's gotta be other ways to get off the ship. I-in fact, why don't you pitch some ideas while I... uh..." He leaned back against the railing to rest, feeling intensely frustrated as his stomach clenched unpleasantly; getting sick again was literally the last thing he needed on top of everything else.

"Well, I suppose we can hijack a getaway vehicle like we did in the Korblock dimension, but making our way back is going to be a challenge if more of these things are coming for us." Ricktus kicked the corpse on the scaffolding just to make sure it was dead. "What are they? This one looks like a regular grunt worker on steroids."

"I-I don't know. I haven't seen anything like them before either, but I'd guess that's exactly what they are." Rick shrugged, covering for himself with a scowl. "They're probably some kinda dimensional variation, but..." He trailed off when he felt the gentle licking sensation in between his hands and looked down; the doctor's pet bee had positioned herself in front of him and was busy grooming him. "You again? Go away!"

"She's trying to heal you, Rick." Ricktus stepped in and gently pushed her aside so he could grasp the injured hand and inspect it for himself. "Interesting... this looks more like a laceration than a gunshot. It's going to need stitches but if there's a first-aid kit along the one of hallways, then either one of us can fix you up on the way back outside." Something shiny caught his eye on the ground and he bent down to carefully pick it up; it was a razor-edged disc about four inches across. "Ah, this would be your culprit. We should take it with us."

"Well, that's new to me as well." Rick stared at the projectile and frowned. "They've really thought about this... a sharp cleaver is the perfect kind of weapon to hack into fleshy meatbags with."

"No offense boss, but your escape plan? It sucks." Surgeon Rick suddenly blurted out after thinking his way through it. "Let's say you do manage to steal one of these alien bug bastard's ships. Where are you gonna go with it? That shipping dock is probably gonna be more well guarded than a teenager's dirty magazine collection by now. Hell, did you even get a good look out there? You couldn't fly anywhere even if you wanted to, it was locked down tighter than a virgin's-"

"Thank you, C-711, we get the idea." Ricktus sourly cut him off. "Do you have a better one?"

"Duh, of course I do." Surgeon Rick took out his Council-issue distress beacon to show off. "Activate this and make the assholes at the Citadel pull us outta here. This is what it's actually meant for, bro."

"Ugh, how long would it take for them to arrive...?" Rick slowly shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to keep his mind focused. "It's a bad idea to rely on something beyond your control."

"Even if we activated all three of them at once, we could be waiting hours." Ricktus hummed in thought. "I'm not sure how they'd respond to yours going off, B-526, but the Council generally doesn't consider silver-ranked Ricks like us to be important."

"Well, that's stupid." Rick grumpily declared. "There's gotta be another way."

"Escape pod?" Surgeon Rick casually suggested.

"You'd have the same problem as stealing one of the Gromflomite's vehicles I'd expect," Ricktus quickly dismissed it. "As you said, the whole ship is stuck in their loading bay."

"N-not quite," Rick said suddenly as a thought came to mind. "The front didn't fit... it's still pointing out into space."

"Huh," Ricktus turned away from them and looked over his datapad once again. "The map is telling me that there's two escape pods in the ship's cockpit. It's only about a hundred yards from our position, but it's coming up as oxygen viable. If we can get there, it's our best option."

"You mean our only option." Surgeon Rick corrected him.

"Shut up, C-711."

Rick gave a small nod and forced himself off the scaffolding. After picking up the heavy long-barreled weapon that the overgrown Gromflomites had used on them, he slung it over his shoulder and headed for the exit. "One of you can navigate with the map," he instructed them. "But I'm keeping this... i-it's too big to shoot myself in the head with."

As he watched the other two move away, the doctor stood back, his gaze lingering on the reactor pylon; even though he'd watched Rick install the detonator for himself, seeing it up there still somehow made all it feel real and final.

Fleur followed her master's gaze upwards, though if she had any of her own reservations about what was happening to her hive, she certainly wasn't voicing them; her collar was silent and her expression was as vacant as ever. One could only guess what was going on in her buggy mind.

* * *

Heading towards the cockpit looked simple enough on the map, but the way there ended up being navigated by the doctor's pet bee. Because the ship's chassis had been so badly crushed in the loading bay's airlock, most of the journey involved crawling through the twisted wreckage and into maintenance shafts on their hands and knees. The lights above flickered and created an erratic display of light and dark and although the cramped space was far from ideal, at least the amount of debris all around them provided good cover.

Ahead of their position, a large patrol of Gromflomite drones frantically paced in the more intact part of the corridor and almost looking like they were lost. Some of them held small devices which they used to scan their surroundings with, but it didn't seem to calm them at all.

"Aww shit, bro... check it out. There's far too many of them for us to just run in there," Surgeon Rick noted in a low voice. "And it looks like they're tracking us. It's only a matter of time before they find out where we are."

"T-they can try..." Rick wheezed as he squashed himself flat against the ground and attentively watched the way ahead. "They have no idea we're here and still don't know what they're looking for. You can use it to your advantage."

"How?" Surgeon Rick whispered back. "Because this looks like a whole lot of 'screwed' to me."

"Look, you can hang back here if you want, but what's that gonna do for yo-" Rick suppressed a sudden cough with great difficulty, but somehow managed to keep quiet. "Sometimes you gotta take risks if you wanna come out on top. If you don't do that right now, you're literally gonna die, so... s-stop... stop being so goddamn cautious of everything, it's not doing you any favors. It's also getting frickin' annoying."

"Thanks for putting that into perspective..." Surgeon Rick grumbled back.

"I-I'm being serious," Rick positioned the long-barreled gun in front of him and aimed it towards the crowd. "Why would you come this far to stop now? And you complain that I don't make sense..."

Ricktus was staring at the scientist now. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Getting the drop on them," Rick's answer was firm and without a hint of hesitation. "Get behind me and follow my lead if you want to live." With his still bleeding hand firmly planted on the barrel and the other gripping the handle, he pulled the trigger and unleashed a torrent of razor-edged projectiles straight into the corridor.

The reply was an immediate chorus of screams, panic, and disarray as the Gromflomite drone were shredded alive; they were completely unprepared for the attack and had nowhere to run. Rick stopped only for a second to let the weapon cool down, then fired another round with a satisfied smirk plastered across his face; ripping them apart so easily almost made up for how terrible he was feeling and he couldn't help the dark chuckle that escaped him.

Surgeon Rick gave his boss a nervous sideways glance. "Uh... is this healthy?"

Ricktus was more intrigued above anything else as he retreated back into the shadows of their hiding place. "Who cares? I want to see where this goes."

Rick made quick work of the drones and thinned out their numbers considerably. However, when the explosion of sparks landed mere inches away from his face, he was quick to retreat as well; he hadn't seen the overgrown brutes among the crowd, but it didn't surprise him to encounter more of them. After positioning himself back in the more cramped space, he positioned the oversized gun as best as he could and fired another round at their chests, but they were unfazed and the shots didn't even put a scratch on them.

The space was far too confined to get a better shot at their heads.

"Well shit, I-I need another angle." He hissed through gritted teeth. "Maybe we... we can get around them. What does the map say?"

Ricktus's scowling face was lit up by the glow of the datapad as he looked at it in the dim light. "Unfortunately, this was the most direct route. Considering the amount of detours we had to take to get here in the first place, you probably wouldn't find another way around. It's this or nothing. You're going to have take them out or go through them. You're smart enough to work this one out, aren't you?"

Rick made his frustration known with a loud growl in the back of his throat and he slammed a fist down on the ground beside him.

 _"Let me help you, maker,"_ Fleur's collar suddenly buzzed. _"They'll take many of us down before it's finished, but I can get you through."_

The doctor blinked at her. "How?"

Without another word, the insect scuttled off into the darkness. The sound of claws hurriedly scraping across metal could be heard in the pipes beside them, above them, and then finally in front of them. Not even a minute passed before the sound of angry buzzing came in from other parts of the ship, and then a large cluster of the local hive population descended onto the Gromflomites in the open space, attacking them in a sudden fury as if of one mind.

"Holy shit," Surgeon Rick peered around his dimensional counterparts to get a better look. "Has the Council ever thought to weaponize these too?"

"They could if they wanted to. I DID have a healthy population of them before all this started." Ricktus growled bitterly. "Note that I'm speaking in past tense, because you're about to blow them all up!"

"Shut up!" Rick chastised them, then sharply shoved the surgeon in the shoulder. "You, go first. Run into the cockpit while they're distracted... y-you'll probably make it if you keep your head down."

"Aww hell no, dude!" Surgeon Rick protested. "You want me to just waltz into that crazy-ass shit!?"

"Remember how I said not to be cautious? Well, now's the time." The scientist sat up and cocked the long-barreled gun in both hands. "Shut up and don't think about it, we don't have any other choice here. I-I'll be right behind you... you'll be fine."

Surgeon Rick made a loud apprehensive sound and his mouth set in a hard line. With both hands gripped tight on his plasma blaster, he scooted out of the hole and half-dashed, half-limped through the fray. It only took him a few seconds to make the distance to the cockpit, and then he hid around the corner of the doorway once he was inside.

"Good. You next," Rick poked Ricktus in the side with the butt of the gun. "S-same deal. Remember that you can actually run with those dumb upgrades I made to your augmentation, so you can thank me later."

"What about you?" Ricktus asked him. "Don't tell me you can run in that state. You should give the gun to me and go next."

"Hah, yeah right. And have you losing your nerve like you did in the nightclub?" Rick gave him a short humorless chuckle. "I-if you're still worried I'm going to kill you, I probably wouldn't be able to shoot you once you're in the middle of that mess out there... there's gonna be too much other shit moving around for me to hit you properly."

Ricktus moved to stand within his personal space and his voice became low and threatening. "Don't think that's over with. You're going to be in SO much trouble once we're back in the Citadel."

"If we get there. You gotta blow this up first." Rick took the remote device out of his pocket and shoved it into the doctor's nearest hand. "Now get outta here, I-I'm sick of listening to you."

Ricktus made an unintelligible grumble as he turned away and peered out of their hiding place. His posture was tense as he shuffled to the end, and then he sat back to wait for a good opportunity to run in. Ahead of him, five of his hybrid-insects had dog-piled one of the overgrown Gromflomites and pinned it to the ground while they tried to chew into its armored hide with their mandibles. Another of the brutes made deep angry noises as it pulverized anything that dared to come close.

With all the chaos before him, the doctor was an equal mix of nervous and hesitant; his heart pounded in his chest and he clasped his hands in one another to hide the fact they were already trembling. He tried to hold himself together, but he could already feel his mind starting to slip again. At precisely the wrong moment, he sprang off his position and made a break for it, running straight into the pathway of heavy projectile fire.

Rick angrily threw the gun aside. "What the FUCK are you doing?! Fall back!" He rushed out from the hole and lunged for the doctor's legs, aggressively pulling them out from under him. In the same instant the Gromflomite's gun sounded, he felt a sudden unbearable pressure shredding into his side like a white hot poker and he hit the deck with a loud thud. He knew it would have hurt so much more if he wasn't drugged up on painkillers, but he could already feel the blood flowing out of him and he yelled as he clutched his side in the attempt to make it stop.

He knew he was going regret staying back to help from the very beginning, and now there it was.

Ricktus dumbly stared ahead, his mind trying to catch up with what was happening; in one second he was running, and then he was on the ground in the next. The only thing that brought him around was the loud cry directly behind him, and at once he knew the worst had happened.

"You fuckin' IDIOTS!" Surgeon Rick roared; he had been closely watching, but the sight made him abandon his hiding place to dash over to them. "Get the fuck up and help me haul his ass up here!" He kept his posture low as he grabbed an arm and dragged the shuddering body back towards the doorway.

The smell of blood provoked a defensive instinctive response in some nearby members of the hive, including the doctor's pet bee. They abandoned their attack to pounce on the scientist and once on top of him, they used themselves as a protective shield while they regurgitated long strings of syrup straight into his open wound.

"Oh gross, that's disgusting!" Surgeon Rick smacked one of them away and glared at his boss. "Don't just sit there. Do something, bro!"

Ricktus wanted to say something, but his more pressing thought was about getting to safety and grabbing a leg to help his assistant was the fastest way there. After hauling their charge into the cockpit, he gently pushed the insect hybrids aside and laid him out on the floor; there was already so much blood that his clothes were soaking wet and clinging to him. "This is bad..."

"Yeah, no shit!" Surgeon Rick's reply was charged and bitter. "Fuckin' dumbass! Why'd he have to go and do something like that?!"

The doctor ignored him and pried up the bottom of Rick's shirt to evaluate the severity of the injury. He'd seen a lot of things in his time, but he was still not prepared for what he found underneath. "Fuck... find something we can patch this up with! NOW!" he demanded with sudden harshness in his voice.

Surgeon opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it again; all it took was one look and he understood how dire the situation was as well. Even through the mess of blood and syrup coagulating in the wound, he could clearly see that Rick was torn open from flank to belly; exposed cracked ribs, a punctured stomach, and a lacerated grey liver peppered with pink crystals were visible among the viscera and he knew that he would not live much longer in that state.

He was completely silent as he turned away to rummage through the cockpit, his mind fixated on the last observation; in all his years of practicing surgery, he'd never seen anything like it. Whatever it was, he was certain that it had to be one the reasons that Rick had gotten sick in the first place.

After locating a box of medical supplies under the driver's console, the surgeon threw it towards his boss and moved back over to assist him. "Dude, you gotta get him back to the Citadel and blow this popsicle stand already!"

As Ricktus pinned down his charge and packed the wound, his mind was torn; Rick had absolutely nothing to gain from pushing him out of harm's way, yet he'd still willingly done so anyway at great cost to himself.

Unless he got him to safety soon, he'd surely bleed out and die.

The doctor was silent through the bandaging process and even somewhat hesitant as he transferred Rick into the escape pod; even an idiot could see that the ship was lost. As much as he still wanted to save it, he knew that their survival was far more important than any of his personal goals. With great reluctance, he took the small activator device out of his pocket and depressed the button.

Nothing happened.

The countdown delay timer didn't even start - it was completely dead.

"Huh?" He pressed it twice more but received the same result, so he turned it over and tried to work out why it was unresponsive. "Your stupid remote is broken!" He held it over Rick's head. "How do I fix it!?"

"I-I... I rushed it," Rick's answer was tinged with regret; there was always risk involved between doing something quickly and doing it well, and now it was likely to be his undoing. He tried focus his eyes but couldn't; he was shivering and his body had already gone into shock. "O-open it and check the contacts... s-shit... s-so fucking stupid..."

"Check WHAT?" Ricktus yelled at him. "Tell me what to do!"

Rick made a low frustrated sound; he knew what he wanted to say but couldn't form the words. He made a feeble attempt to sit up, but he felt a sudden yet gentle pressure on his shoulders pinning him down again.

"Don't move, bro," he heard Surgeon Rick's voice instruct him overhead. "You don't wanna aggravate your injuries."

There was a loud bang as a stray razor-edged shot hit the cockpit's doorway, and the insect screams that accompanied it made the situation outside clear; the bee-hybrids were finally being overpowered and on the verge of losing the fight.

"So... that's it then, is it?" Ricktus sank in his posture and lowered his head, his arms falling to his sides; there was literally nothing else he could think of to do. "This is how we die... I-I failed again..." Just as he began conceding to defeat, he felt a sharp nip on his hand and he looked up to witness his pet bee snatch up the remote in her jaws. "Fleur, what are you doing?"

 _"Given that nothing means anything, what does it matter?"_ The bee's collar crackled as her antennae flicked high over her head. _"I know what you want, maker. I also know where you buried the starter. Let me do it for you."_

"Wait, you want to trigger the explosion?" The doctor put a hand to his head and shook it, not believing what he was hearing. "N-no way, Fleur! You're coming with us. You're mine, and you're one of the only decent things to come out of this whole mess..."

 _"No,"_ the translation was firm. _"If everything only exists to die, then let me bring about our invader's demise faster. I've been here since it began, now let me end it."_

"No!" Ricktus made a grab for one of her front limbs. "There's more than enough room for you in here, y-you'd be insane!"

 _"Let me do this for you, maker,"_ the insect took three steps backwards and moved out of his reach. _"Let me prolong your uselessness."  
_

"Don't do it, Fleur," the doctor's voice was almost pleading now. "You can't come back from something like that... you'd be the first to die!"

" _I didn't ask to be born."_

"Wow," Surgeon Rick sounded impressed as he added to the conversation. "That bug's gone full nihilist on you, bro."

" _You can create something like me again,"_ Fleur continued as she blankly stared back at her master. _"But next time, make sure you give my successor the ability to speak like you because this is itchy and inconvenient."_ She indicated to the collar with the top hinge of her left scythe claw and casually scratched at her thorax with a hind leg. _"Don't be a dick."_ Without waiting for a reply, she tilted her head up and swallowed the remote activation device in one gulp, then bounded back into the fray and flew down the maintenance shaft they had used to get there in the first place.

She did not look back.

As Ricktus watched her go, he had a sinking feeling of hopelessness; he'd given his own creation a part of his mind and it had chosen to die over saving itself. He supposed he should have expected it.

"Come on," Surgeon Rick moved up behind him and gently tugged his arm to pull him away from the door. "I-it's done for. Let's get outta here already." After double checking the escape pod to make sure all three of them were safely inside, he smacked the launch button with the palm of his hand.

Everything happened quickly after that; the doors slammed shut with a loud clang, and then there was a singular muffled thump along with a sharp feeling of acceleration as the pod forcefully launched itself into deep space. While the domed glass ceiling offered a fantastic view, the lack of gravity put the less injured occupants back into clinical mode and they carefully hauled their charge onto the only bunk in the enclosed tight space, strapping him down he couldn't drift around.

After it was done with, Surgeon Rick seated himself on the floor beside it to keep a watchful eye on him. "So..." He offered, not really knowing what to say. "I guess we hang out here until they come pick us up, huh?" He took out his Council-issue distress beacon and activated it in the awkward silence that followed. After watching his boss do the same, he idly stared up into the blackness above.

Ricktus sat next to him with a deep sigh. He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on them, not saying anything; he didn't want to talk. He didn't want to do anything. All he could think about was all that he'd lost, and that everything was about to be be taken away from him yet again.

"I get it, you know. You're sad. I would be too." Surgeon Rick noted his silence and continued. "I mean sure, you're gonna lose a whole year of research, your colony of weird bee things, and all that serum shit we worked towards for the Council, but everything's gonna be OK, right?" His expression became discontent. "And now you got the awkward business of what to do with your guy here. I-I mean, you locked him up and accused him of murder, and yet he stayed behind and saved your dumb ass. That could be you lying back there."

"Thank you, C-711," the doctor returned with a weary voice. "Please shut up."

"I guess we're both unemployed now, huh? And homeless. I'm really gonna miss our ball pit." The surgeon's eyes suddenly widened in realization of something he'd forgotten and he placed a bloodied hand over his forehead. "I never got the chance to take all those photos off my wall... damn it!"

"Y-you... you're not homeless," the weak shaky voice behind them spoke, "I-I still got that s-s... set of keys from that pointy-haired idiot in charge of the f-fake hierarchy... t-they're for accommodation. You... y-you keep them."

"Dude! Don't talk, OK?" Surgeon Rick turned around to glare at him. "Don't move either. Do you wanna bleed out faster?"

"L-let's be honest... w-when am I ever gonna go back there?" Rick let out a soft laugh; he had come close to death more times than he could count, but he'd never expected it to come like this. He was so cold, but a strange sense of peaceful calm had come over him. As long as Morty was in safe hands, he had no regrets; he was genuinely accepting of his slowly waning consciousness and the concept of dying. Being stranded in the depths of space was certainly a fitting place for it too; although he'd gotten used to it a long time ago, a part of him had never really gotten tired of seeing it. "I-I'm not gonna be going anywhere much longer..."

"Dude, don't say that shit!" Surgeon Rick's tone was a sharp warning now. "You're gonna be fine. We can fix this!"

A brilliant flash of white light lit up the escape pod's viewing window; the doctor's pet bee had obviously done her final job loyally and set off the detonator. The chain reaction had been started.

In the distance, the derelict ship's cold fusion reactor destabilized and caused it to go critical. Giant arcs of burning energy ripped open the bottom half of the planet-sized vessel while clouds of verdant iridescence blossomed from the gaping hole as the hive's fuel source and resident population ignited in the heat. Angry rivulets of red and orange soon accompanied them as the methane and oxygen atmospheres of both ships caught alight.

With the amount of energy being released in the explosive display, there was another sudden flash of blinding white as the Gromflomite ship's vitrification beam activated at point blank range and glassed itself from the inside. Millions of shards were thrown into the surrounding space, glinting among the colorful fiery clouds like tiny crystals.

Even though his vision was failing him, Rick was still able to watch and appreciate the results of his work. While he knew it wasn't his dimension, he still felt a vague sense of satisfaction over giving the Gromflomites exactly what they deserved. "S-see... see that?" He mumbled to nobody in particular. "T-that's only a warm up f-for what I'm going to do to them back home..."

"Holy shit," Surgeon Rick whistled impressively. "A tiny portal core caused all that?"

"Y-yep..." Although Rick struggled with the answer, he still sounded proud. "Whole thing was a giant fire hazard j-just waiting to-" his words were cut short by a cough which caused him to flinch; the painkiller substance he'd been given was starting to wear off. He knew he'd be so much worse off when it finally did.

Ricktus jumped in surprise as the phone function of his datapad buzzed in his pocket. After sitting up properly, he pulled it out and set it on speakerphone so all the occupants on board could hear. "Well, that was fast. Is this about the distress beacons? Because we need immediate evac. We're on an escape pod with no way out and have a casualty on board with life-threatening injuries."

"Uh, not really my department, buddy. This is Lab Rick D-69 from the Citadel. I'm calling about the biological specimens you shipped here for processing," the irritated voice on the other end of the line obviously had no idea what he had dialed in on. "If you got anything stupid to say about my dimension number, I'm hanging up on you."

"What? I didn't send any specimens to the lab." Ricktus cast a sudden accusatory glare at his assistant. "What did you do now?"

Surgeon Rick bit his lower lip but attentively stared back; he knew he was probably about to be in even more trouble, but he was genuinely eager to hear the result. "Yeah, that was me. Go on."

"Make up your damn mind!" The Rick clearly couldn't tell any difference between the two and was fast becoming impatient. "There's only one Rick Q-316 cited on my documentation and it's got your signature all over it. I'm looking at blood and bone marrow samples here but they appear to be contaminated. Were you snorting k-lax when you collected them?"

"No!" Surgeon Rick immediately retorted; as much as it sounded like something he would have done previously in his lifetime, it certainly wasn't the case now. "I did everything like I was supposed to."

"Holy shit," there was a brief silence. "If that Rick you took them from is still alive, then you gotta get 'em into the Citadel infirmary as soon as possible."

"I would very much like to!" Ricktus snapped back, exasperated. "But we're still stuck in the middle of space and he's the damn casualty!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it," the Lab Rick grumbled. "I'll dispatch someone to your location."

"So what did you find?" Surgeon Rick asked, his mind thinking hard; the vague description that had been given already matched what he'd discovered for himself.

However, there was no answer. The Lab Rick from the Citadel had already hung up on them.

"I can't believe you went behind my back." Ricktus huffed, though it was yet another thing he supposed he should have expected. "Have you been conspiring against me the whole time?"

"No way, bro!" Surgeon Rick yelped. "I didn't do it to betray you. Look, I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it, but you weren't listening to me and I was just trying to stop you from making another huge mistake. Besides, I forged your signature and put everything under your name, so if the lab makes any new discoveries you're gonna get all the credit." He folded his arms across his chest. "You're welcome, by the way."

The doctor rested his head back down on his knees and was silent again.

Outside, the series of explosions had an undesirable effect; the smaller ship had fused into the larger one, while the cold fusion reactor had overheated and caused a thermonuclear meltdown. The amount of heat it threw out warmed the side of the escape pod that was facing towards it, while the domed viewing window was splattered with superheated glass.

"O-OK, we... w-we gotta get out of here," Rick forced the words out in between pained uneven breaths, having decided that he'd finally had enough. "I-if you spend enough time exposed to a nuclear explosion, y-you... you're actually gonna get radiation poisoning for r-real, so..." Using the last ounces of his strength, he sifted through his lab coat pockets. After finding Rick C-139's portal gun, he let it slip from his fingers and drop onto the floor.

"Didn't you hear? The Citadel is sending someone to pick us up." Ricktus tried to assure him. "They'll be here as soon as..." He trailed off as his attention fell on the dead device. "You insufferable bastard! Have you had that with you the WHOLE time? Why didn't you just use it to get us out of here sooner?!"

"B-because... I-I wanted to see the explosion..." Rick admitted as he turned his head towards him with half-lidded unfocused eyes. "A-always have a backup plan... r-remember?"

"You goddamned idiot!" The doctor's left eyebrow twitched and he rose to his feet to stand over his charge, his anger boiling over. "You put all of us at risk because YOU wanted to see an explosion!? Do you have ANY conceivable idea of just how monumentally stupid that is!?" He took a deep breath and checked the device over, but what he discovered sent him into another rage. "It's flat, you moron!"

"Y-yeah, pity," Rick's weak response was accompanied by a barely audible laugh. "But you're smart... y-you'll... f... f-figure it out..." He closed his eyes again and finally yielded to the cold blanket of darkness closing in on him.

Despite barely being able to contain himself, Ricktus emptied out his pockets and sat cross-legged on the floor again; Rick's words had merit and he knew he would not last much longer. Within the minute, he had ripped the battery out of his datapad and wired it up to the portal gun.

The green plasma sphere silently rose to the center of the bulb.

"You know," After punching in the co-ordinates to the Citadel and firing a portal at the space in front of him, the doctor turned towards his assistant with a grim expression; on top of the great sense of loss he felt, he was tired and completely worn down. "We're both probably going to get our asses kicked for this."

"You mean worse than we did now?" Surgeon Rick countered. "Please... Riq IV doesn't bother me. What could be possibly worse than putting up with you?"

Ricktus did not have an answer. Instead, he and his assistant silently dragged their casualty through the open portal, leaving both the escape pod and the carnage behind in Dimension Q-316.

The wreckage of the two ships continued to burn until they were nothing more than radioactive molten slag and glass. There would not be a single survivor on either vessel; the hybrid-insect hive would die, but so would the entire Gromflomite population and there wouldn't even be remnants left of them to speak of.

Although a total loss, one thing the Ricks had set out to achieve was now complete; the knowledge of the ship's location and all of its sensitive data would burn and die along with everything else.


	28. Rickremanded

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty a cartoon, not mine, and copyright to [Adult Swim]. Created by Dan Harmon and Justin Roiland. Please support the official content.

 **NOTE:** Covered a lot of plot stuff in this one. There's also medical/technical junk in this. Enjoy, it's FINALLY DONE. AAGGHH! (Thank you to the Anon on Tumblr who spotted the plot hole in this chapter! It's been fixed :D )

* * *

 **Chapter 28 – Rickremanded**

 **December 2nd** **, 8:50pm Citadel Time, 2001  
** **Cross-Temporal Rift Nebula, Location Classified  
** **Citadel Of Ricks, Dimension Number Classified** **  
**

* * *

Once back in the safety of the Citadel, things happened rather suddenly. Rick was rushed to the infirmary's operating theater for emergency surgery while Surgeon Rick followed the team who worked there; it was his main area of expertise after all.

This left the doctor with very little to do but wait around for news and process the events of the last several hours. Although he knew that the ship had been holding him back, it had served as the most direct means to his primary objective and its absence was going to leave a big hole behind. Even if he could continue his work at the Citadel, he still had the issue of being homeless to deal with.

When the thought of the hybrid-insect colony entered his mind, he pushed it out again; its loss was just another heavy blow. He didn't want to think about Rick either, but trying not to was a futile exercise and his ability to remain objective had failed him; the guilt was almost unbearable. Against all logic, the scientist had jumped in harm's way to save him and he couldn't work out why; they weren't on friendly terms and it wasn't even motivated by self preservation.

Even though he was utterly exhausted, he knew any attempt at sleep would be useless so he sat in the infirmary's waiting room and idly watched the steady stream of medical Ricks moving back and forth through the double swinging doors of the operating theater. There didn't seem to be any reliable pattern to their movements, and it was impossible to discern who was who because they all wore the same sets of plain colored surgical scrubs.

An hour of waiting turned into three, which turned into five. The doctor had obtained a bottle of wine by the seventh, which was half finished into the tenth. In the eleventh hour, one of the surgical Ricks burst through the doors and furiously ripped off his mask and surgical cap, then stomped over to sit in the chair at his left. His sleeves were soaked with blood and it decorated his scrubs from shoulders to knees, but he didn't seem to notice. Without saying a word, he snatched the bottle of wine out of Ricktus's hands and took a heavy swig from it, only to recoil afterwards.

"Oh god, how can you drink this crap?!"

"It's Pinot Noir," Ricktus wearily told him as if it would answer everything. "How are things going?"

"More like Pinot hell-naw, am I right?" The Rick elbowed him in the side and the faintest grin cracked through his sour demeanor.

Ricktus sighed; it was completely obvious who this was now. "Shouldn't you be back in there, C-711?"

"Yeah, but the damn fuckers sent me out for a break. I was still good." Surgeon Rick grumbled back. "I decide when I'm done, not grumpy Head Surgeon Rick dude. Believe it or not, he's even less fun than you... and to think I forgot why I hated working here." He took another sip of wine and handed the bottle back, having decided it was completely unpalatable.

"So has there been much progress?" Ricktus tried again. "Judging from the fact that they're still working, I assume he's still alive."

"Nah man," Surgeon Rick's voice fell flat. "He died."

"R-really?" Ricktus's brow furrowed and he was momentarily silent, but he retained his composure. "Oh shit..."

"Relax, bro. I'm just fuckin' with you." Despite the comment, any good humor the surgeon had was gone. "Yeah, see how bad it feels when I do it? Don't pull that shit on me again!" He ran a hand through the disheveled spikes on top of his head and let out a grumpy sigh. "He's alive, but barely. They're still trying to stabilize him. He flatlined twice but the team managed to revive him. We've also transfused 14 units of blood. I'm probably wearing at least two of them," his eyes tracked another medical Rick who was carrying a box of supplies in through the set of doors. "Make that 15."

"Oh god, and most Ricks barely have 12..."

"He's actually pretty lucky to be alive," Surgeon Rick continued. "We got here quick enough, plus that syrupy crap your bees make acted like a clotting agent and saved him from bleeding out faster. It still doesn't stop the bloodbath in there, but without it he would have been dead by now. Do we have any more lying around?"

"I'm not sure. If the Citadel kept any of the curative serum we developed, it'll be from old batches when it was our main focus." Ricktus buried his face in his hands. "We can't just get more... all the ingredients were back on the ship. I can't clone another batch of hybrids to make it either, I-I..." He took a deep breath and steadied himself again. "Things happened so quickly that I didn't think to bring back any of their genetic material with me."

Surgeon Rick was silent in thought. He got up and disappeared into the changing room, then returned with a bag of dirty laundry from his locker and dumped it onto the chair beside the other. In no time at all, he had pulled out the filthy set of clinical scrubs that he had been wearing throughout the ordeal on the ship; they were heavily stained with purple and green insect blood. After plucking a piece of soggy bee exoskeleton off the fabric, he offered it to him. "Can you use this? It's still fresh."

Ricktus raised his head and stared at the fragment, then up at his assistant. "You're... you're fine with giving this to me after everything I've done?" He delicately took it from him anyway; although small, its existence was valuable. "I've been meaning to ask you... was our alliance just one big elaborate prank you've been playing on me this whole time, and if not, why not?"

"Ugh. Shut up, would ya?" Surgeon Rick scowled. "You're an asshole, but you didn't deserve to lose everything like that. Besides, maybe you can use that to synthesize the clotting component. You kinda owe it to this guy now." When he heard the vibrating sound coming from the bag, he reached into it and plucked out an old-style flip phone, gave it a quick glance, then hung up, his expression even more soured than it had been before. "Nope."

Ricktus was glad for the distraction; anything was better than discussing their charge. "Not important?"

"Fucking Lizabeth," Surgeon Rick answered through gritted teeth. "She's been blowin' up my damn number since I scrubbed up. I should never have given it to her."

"You can't avoid her forever."

"I know," Surgeon Rick begrudgingly admitted, "but I can sure as hell try."

Before any more could be said, there was a flurry of activity as eight Guard Ricks hurriedly patrolled into the waiting room with Riq IV trailing in their wake. He gave his new surroundings a sneer of disdain, then moved to stand in front of the two Ricks seated at the far end.

Ricktus took one look at the new arrival, dropped his bottle of wine, and sprang up; having to face his boss was one the things he had been dreading since coming back to the Citadel and now he had a feeling of impending doom. Although his assistant was already standing, he elbowed him hard in the ribs to make him pay attention.

"How predictable that I would find you here," Riq IV's tone was immediately condescending. "Would either of you care to explain why my asset arrived in undesirable condition?"

Surgeon Rick raised an eyebrow in inquisition. "Your... 'asset', sir?"

Riq IV raised a pointed finger at the doctor. "Yesterday, this idiot signed all rights and responsibility of the Rick in his care over to me. That means I own him." He motioned towards the operating theater doors. "Now he's in there. This isn't the first time you've delivered a Rick to us in such a state, is it? You still haven't fixed the outstanding anomaly, have you?"

There was no answer.

"Perhaps you can shed some light on another matter," the Council leader was equal parts amused and irritated, though he was clearly enjoying himself. "Approximately twelve hours ago, the signal from the Citadel interdimensional communication network in your dimension was terminated. Would you like to tell me why all 325 computers went offline at the same time?"

"They, uh..." When the doctor found his voice, it wavered slightly. "T-they no longer exist, sir."

"Yeah, bro. Both of those things you're asking about are connected." Surgeon Rick's answer was considerably more confident. "It's a long story but we totally got our asses handed to us."

"Is that so?" Riq IV's brow flattened and his voice dipped low in genuine displeasure. "I would be most interested in hearing about it. So would the rest of the Council."

Ricktus had a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach; there was no good way he could pitch the story and he knew things were about to get so much worse.

On the other side of the waiting room, three members of the surgical team peered through the double doors and attentively listened in on the conversation. When their superior came up behind them, they darted out of his way and retreated.

"Do you think you're being paid to stand around? Get back in there!" The head surgeon demanded, then pushed his way through; the Council leader was just who he wanted to see. "Well well, if it isn't Riq IV himself. What an honor it is to have you grace the infirmary with your presence. Can I borrow a moment of your time?"

With a soft huff, Riq IV turned to face him; the acknowledgment of his authority was expected of all the Ricks in the Citadel, but it still managed to bore him. "You have thirty seconds."

"Esteemed councilman," the Rick promptly began, "I'd like to ask if we can stop the surgery. If we keep going the way we are now, we're going to lose him. It's becoming pointless."

"Did I not make myself clear when we first spoke? I want the asset alive." Riq IV growled; his patience was already wearing thin. "Are you questioning my orders?"

"Not at all, sir," the Rick tried to keep his frustration subdued, "but I want to understand your reasoning. You've given us nothing good to work with and at this point it would be better to just let him go." He took off his gloves and leaned against the door frame beside him. "Even if we do successfully finish sewing him back together, there's no guarantee he'll come out the other side of it."

"You know something I don't," Riq IV's expression did not change. "Go on."

"Fine," the Rick folded his arms. "He's been clinically dead for over four minutes on more than one occasion. We won't know what kind of damage he might have sustained until he wakes up again, that is, if he wakes up at all. He might be a vegetable for all we know." He made a soft discontent grunt and hesitantly continued. "If you want us to keep going with this ridiculous idea, then I'm going to need a viable corpse for organ transplant."

It was enough to make Ricktus speak up. "What are you going to replace?"

"I'm sorry, who are you and what business is it of yours?" The head surgeon turned on him. "By the looks of your uniform, you're not a member of my team. Go back to your little clinic and prescribe hemorrhoid cream to some sad loser, I-I don't know. What do you stupid doctors do all day?"

"Hey, screw you, buddy!" The comment made Surgeon Rick's anger spike in an instant. "This guy deserves to know as much as everyone else here. That Rick was ours before all this shit began!"

"You never were good at keeping your mouth shut, C-711. It was much quieter after you left." The Rick allowed a small grin to play across his face. "How's that lucrative side-business of yours going? It's probably the only thing you're good at."

"You son of a BITCH!" Surgeon Rick roared back at him. "I'll CUT YOU!"

"All of you, shut up. NOW." Riq IV pinched the bridge of his nose; tempers flared so often in the Citadel that he was more than used to it, but he was still disgusted that he had to bother listening to it at all. "You," he pointed to the head surgeon, "I want you to keep going with the surgery... get it done by any means necessary. As for you two," he glared back at the doctor and his assistant, "I want you in my private chambers at midday sharp. There are obviously several things we need to discuss."

The head surgeon made a loud sound of distaste and pushed off the door frame again. "Whatever you say, you're the boss. But what's so special about this one? We've let Ricks slip away for far less than this."

"Speculation on that Rick's importance is strictly forbidden." Riq IV's tone was icy cold and his expression suggested that he wasn't going to tolerate another challenge to the issue of his command. "That goes for all of you." He turned his stern gaze on his guards, and then to the others around him. "I will not have the entire Citadel engaging in baseless theories of what may or may not be. Anything you do here is to remain classified and if anyone asks, we're going to pretend that none of it ever happened. That is all."

With that, the Citadel's leader haughtily swung around and left the waiting room with the entourage of Guard Ricks hot on his heels. Meanwhile, Head Surgeon Rick shoved back through the doors of the operating theater and resumed hollering commands at the rest of his team.

Surgeon Rick watched them all go. "Huh... well, that wasn't so bad. Maybe he just wants to talk?"

"I appreciate the assurance, C-711, but..." Ricktus slumped back into the chair behind him and lowered his head; that feeling of impending doom was growing ever stronger. "It's when they don't yell that you have to worry. We are SO screwed."

* * *

It was unusual to see the entire Council of Ricks seated outside of an official assembly meeting. One or more would usually be distracted or off on other business, and yet, here they all were, attentively watching the lower ranked Ricks on the table opposite them. Even Quantum Rick had abandoned his usual habit of doing random equations to sit down and listen, while Riq IV looked up from his clipboard every now and again to glower at them.

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut.

"Where do we even begin?" The Council leader leafed through the pages of a document on top of the pile. "You've somehow managed to destroy ALL the Council property given to you for your work project, the one Rick you were asked to bring back alive is grievously wounded, and..." He took a sharp intake of breath; it was obvious that he was trying to control his temper. "You want us to convict him for Rickicide? Why are you wasting the Council's time with this nonsense?"

"I watched him murder Rick C-139, sir." Ricktus replied instantly. "After taking him into custody, I had the corpse sent to the coroner and filed all the appropriate paperwork."

"You didn't actually SEE it happen," Surgeon Rick corrected him. "Way to throw the guy under a bus, dude."

Ricktus glared at him. "Whose side are you on here?"

Riq IV made a short huff of disapproval; he didn't have the patience to deal with another argument. He spent several silent minutes rereading the topmost document, then threw it on the table as if discarding it like a piece of trash. "Well, if you're so clever, then YOU tell me where the killing blow took place."

Ricktus pushed his glasses higher on his nose and leaned forward to take a look; it was the coroner report for Rick C-139. The information it contained was completely underwhelming and predictable - his blood alcohol level was elevated at the time of death, his airways were obstructed with vomit, and there was a significant blunt trauma injury down his back where he had fallen. The coroner concluded that he had died due to drunken misadventure and that no foul play was involved.

It was exactly as Rick had described it to be.

With a quiet resigning sigh, he slid the report away again; of course he was wrong again. It was just getting ridiculous by now, but even he didn't know how much worse it was about to be.

Now that the document was free, Surgeon Rick seized the opportunity to snatch it up and read for himself. "Aw shit, what did I tell ya?" He sounded way too cheery about his findings. "Just like the guy said, he didn't do it. You should have listened to him, boss!"

"You don't have to rub it in... and I'm not your boss any more." Ricktus wearily reminded him. "I fired you, remember?"

"Yeah, but when did I ever listen to you?" The surgeon replied with a grin.

"You're wasting our time," Zeta Alpha Rick grumpily remarked; he had better places to be. "You know why you're here, so get to the point. Tell us why you thought it necessary to destroy everything we gave you."

Ricktus knew there was no point in lying or remaining silent. He wanted to explain that the last thing he wanted was to lose his ship or his colony, and that if he could have done anything within his power to save them, he would have. But he knew that the Council hated Ricks lamenting about what could have been, so he he kept his story concise and factual.

Nothing was spoken through any of it, though the members of the Council occasionally exchanged glances. When the part about Rick's crazy idea to set everything on fire came up, Riq IV halted him with a short wave of his hand.

"Stop right there," the Council leader growled. "Are you seriously blaming the destruction of Council property and your entire project on the asset again?"

"Yes," the doctor responded at once. "I didn't want to go through with it, i-it all was Rick B-526's idea! I tried negotiating with the Gromflomites, but all they wanted was to kill us and steal everything. There was no way we could have escaped, so... B-526 took the lead and formulated a plan to rig my ship's engine to explode. It was the only way to stop the enemy from exploiting Council secrets, my research, and anything else from the previous owners that might have assisted them in... I don't know what their intentions were."

"Duh, interplanetary conquest? Doesn't matter now because they blew up, yo!" Surgeon Rick chimed in enthusiastically. "The ship's warning system didn't go off until they were right on top of us, but geez, the dumb fuckers sure as hell didn't see THAT one coming. Nothing could have survived the blast either, there was plasma and glass and radiated shit everywhere. You all should have seen it, boss. It was HUGE."

Riq IV leaned back in his chair and steepled his index fingers together. "Is this true?"

"Got no reason to bullshit ya," Surgeon Rick replied matter-of-factly. "Plus it was fucking awesome!"

"Interesting..." The Council leader's expression became thoughtful. "This changes things considerably."

"Oh yeah, while we're on the subject... both our portal guns are fucked." Surgeon Rick confessed. "We had to destroy 'em, but it was done in accordance with official protocol... sorta? Does using a portal gun as a grenade count?"

There was a quiet knock on the chamber door and one of the Guard Ricks removed himself from his post to answer it. Two Ricks brushed past him and let themselves in; one was a member of the surgical team and held a stack of documents under one arm, while the other was a Lab Rick and carried in a rack of test tubes containing biological samples.

Riq IV fixed a harsh glare on them, annoyed with the sudden intrusion. "This better be important. We're in the middle of official business!"

"The Rick that came in for surgery last night pulled through, sir. They're moving him to recovery now." The surgical Rick announced in a bored clinical tone. "We found something you need to see."

When the Lab Rick set the test tubes down before the Council, they collectively sat up with intrigue. Meanwhile, Ricktus breathed a subtle sigh and felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders; the news of Rick's survival meant that he might not be in as much trouble as he originally thought.

"Luckiest son of a bitch alive," the surgical Rick mused aloud. "The next 24 hours will be critical. He lost an enormous amount of blood but we were able to sew him back up. It's like he refuses to die."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Surgeon Rick added. "He's a stubborn asshole."

The Lab Rick was considerably more interested in getting to the point. "After seeing the noteworthy biological specimens that Rick Q-316 sent to the lab, we had to do further investigation. The Rick was right here and available, so we collected more samples and found more of the same foreign substance evident in his system." He delicately plucked one of the test tubes from the rack and held it up to show off. "It solidified in a crystalline structure and accumulated in his liver among other places. None of us have seen anything like it before, so we ran it through chemical analysis and it matches something else we already had on file. It's almost too convenient, isn't it?"

Riq IV sat up tall in his chair and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Go on."

The Lab Rick rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a glass vial of the doctor's pink curative serum. "It's nearly identical to this, but the active ingredient has been spent and now it's toxic." He casually tossed it onto the table. "The surgical team successfully performed a liver transplant because he was already cut open, but unless you remove the rest of the crystals, they're going to kill him. The lab boys are already working on an enzyme to dissolve them."

Ricktus couldn't tolerate listening to any more and slammed both hands down on the table in objection as he sprang to his feet. "That's a lie! My serum has NEVER caused any kind of reaction like that in anything I've tested it on!"

"Well, it has now," the Lab Rick turned to look at him. "You're Rick Q-316? Sucks to be you, buddy."

"The Council assigned that Rick to me to keep him alive!" Ricktus went on, his volume increasing with each word. "Are you suggesting I've harmed my own work project?!"

"No. We're blatantly accusing you of it with evidence to back it up." The surgical Rick presented his stack of papers down beside the test tube rack. "All your paperwork checks out - the timing, the gradual rate of failure, hell... you even recorded the time and date when you poisoned him in the first place."

"That's impossible!" Ricktus snapped back. "The serum we developed is metabolized by the liver and eliminated via the kidneys, i-it's harmless. We spent months testing it to get the same result, I've even tested it on myself! It HAS to be something else."

"If it was, we wouldn't be here, now would we?" The surgical Rick coldly countered.

"How was this allowed to happen?" Rick Prime's tone was considerably more level-headed than the others around him. "Who authorized it?"

"Certainly not me!" Riq IV hissed through clenched teeth and snatched up the new stack of papers to examine the information he'd been given.

"No, there... there has to be another cause," it was clear that the doctor was becoming desperate. "It's never happened before... why would it happen now?"

The surgical Rick answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "This is just a wild guess here, but maybe a lifetime of alcohol abuse had something to do with it?" He shrugged. "His liver was already compromised, but your dumb serum was going to finish it off until we intervened. Do you wanna see what we pulled out of him? It looks a combination of cirrhosis and fuckin' pop rock candy."

Ricktus opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it and sank back into his chair; the description had just changed the accusation from 'impossible' to 'feasible'. He lowered his head and stared down at his feet. There was no way he could face the Council's judgmental looks now.

Riq IV thumbed through the compiled evidence and raised an eyebrow. "It says here that this same unauthorized concoction was injected into his Morty as well. It's not dead, is it?" He looked up and glanced around the room. "Where did it go?"

Surgeon Rick gave his ex-boss a sideways glance, then answered for him. "He's very much alive, sir. I left him with the bird dude on the bird planet in Dimension B-526."

"That technologically challenged dirtball you found them crawling around on in the first place?" Riq IV growled, thoroughly displeased. "Well, that's not going to continue. Bring the Morty back to the Citadel and make sure it's not sick as well. The asset will be much more open to negotiations if he knows his property is safe and secure."

"So what are we going to do with these two, Riq?" Rick Prime kept his tone bland and unfeeling. "We'd be setting a bad example for the Citadel if we allowed their incompetence to be tolerated."

Maximums Rickimus made a low sound of acknowledgment. "Yes, we can't leave them unpunished. Everything was given to them with the express purpose of advancing the Citadel's knowledge base and for keeping the multiverse safe. We can't just be giving things away if this is the end result."

Quantum Rick gave his fellow councilmen an unimpressed glare. "Destroying Council property WAS done to keep the multiverse safe, and losing a few hundred computers is no big deal if there was no major data loss." He leaned forward in his chair and turned towards the two Ricks opposite him. "Leniency will be given because you obviously saw things getting over your head and signed all rights of the assigned Rick back over to us, but nothing accounts for why he came in with such substantial injuries. What happened?"

"H-he..." Ricktus did not look up. "After everything I did to him, he stayed back to help us. He led the way and kept us safe, a-and then he put his own life in danger to save mine."

There was another silent exchange of looks among the Council members.

"Unacceptable!" Zeta Alpha Rick pounded his fist on the table, then raised his voice at the five others beside him. "If they couldn't even follow simple orders, then what hope is there for either of them? I say we exile them right now!"

"Whoa, holy shit!" Surgeon Rick raised his hands up in a sign of surrender. "Don't you think that's a bit extreme?!"

Riq IV slowly nodded his head as he reasoned through the councilman's suggestion. "Yes, they are completely expendable. Finding a replacement will be easy and who knows, maybe we might actually get a Rick who knows how to do their job properly."

His words were met with a round of soft chuckles and snickering. At the far end of the table sat Ricktiminus Sancheziminius, who was completely unamused as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Yes, yes, let's take a vote on it," Riq IV seemed pleased with the idea. "All in favor of banishing these bunglers from the Citadel?"

"Why me?!" Surgeon Rick protested. "I mean, I get booting the guy responsible for it all, but you can't get rid of me for following orders. How is this fair?!"

"It isn't fair and we can do whatever we want." Zeta Alpha Rick angrily retorted. "You are incompetent by association. If we think the Citadel is better off without you, then so be it!"

Maximums Rickimus nodded in agreement, as did Rick Prime, while Ricktiminus Sancheziminius did not move and retained the same expression.

Quantum Rick chose to keep his demeanor calm and collected as a means of preventing the situation from becoming more heated. "It is an unfortunate predicament for all of us. Your project led to the clean disposal of countless deceased Ricks while protecting their portal guns from potential exploitation." He paused deliberately to let the words sink in. "Your inability to prevent your ship from being invaded can be overlooked, but the harm you have caused to your assigned Rick cannot. I will have to read through the laboratory documentation and only time will tell if there is permanent damage, but it is with deep regret that I must also vote for your exile."

Ricktus just kept his head down during the speech, his posture stiff as a board. He couldn't believe what he was hearing; just when he thought he didn't have anything left to lose, his very position at the Citadel was under threat as well.

"You couldn't even keep your own portal guns safe," Riq IV's voice became patronizing. "You were explicitly instructed to keep an eye on the asset and to only intervene once his health came into questio-"

"I did exactly as you requested," Ricktus quietly interrupted, "I saw what looked like radiation poisoning and I acted on it-"

"With a substance that was not approved by the Council prior to use. Whether intentional or not, you nearly killed him!" Riq IV icily talked over him. "Your initial diagnosis actually carried merit until this evidence was presented," he waved a hand at the table, "but the only beneficial thing worth documenting now is to never use your damn serum again. Your actions are borderline traitorous and the Citadel is better off without you. However, the Council vote must be unanimous for it to be passed, so..." His eyes fell on the one councilman who had not spoken the entire time. "Shall I take your silence as consent to exile?"

Ricktiminus Sancheziminius angrily glanced at the Guard Ricks around the room, and then at the Lab and surgical Rick. "If you are not directly involved with this hearing, then GET OUT."

There was a sudden scramble for the door.

The goateed councilman rose to his feet after the room was clear, then looked at each of his peers with an air of disdain. "I can't believe you're all so STUPID. A potential crisis was averted. Who CARES if a few hundred computers had to be destroyed in the process? They weren't the last ones in existence, were they?!" The words were spoken with fiery vitriol. "And so what if your oh-so-precious Rick was injured? It's still alive, isn't it? You still don't even know if it's the one you've been looking for, do you?"

An uncomfortable mumbling began among the members of the Council.

"That's what I thought." Ricktiminus Sancheziminius growled, then ignored them in favor of glaring at the two still opposite him. "Why are we so being quick to exile these Ricks when we so frequently discuss the need to expand the population of the Citadel? Have there been previous incidents? Has their loyalty been called into question before? No?"

The room was silent.

"It's obvious to me that none of this was done with malicious intent, and you're nothing but a bunch of blind halfwits if you think otherwise!" Ricktiminus Sancheziminius sounded furious. "They're idiots, but they're not traitorous. The fact that my business partner and your stupid Rick were brought back alive at all should account for something. If the Council doesn't want them, then I will take them myself. We're always in need of medical personnel for one thing or another. I'll find something for them to do."

Riq IV bristled with anger but said nothing; he wasn't about to start an argument with another member of the Council while the lower ranked Ricks were still present. Instead, he deliberated over everything that had just been said, then decided to brush it off entirely. "Whatever. But their project is to be terminated effective immediately, and they are hereby suspended until further notice. Is there anything else we need to discuss here?"

"Of course," Rick Prime's calm voice spoke again at the other end of the table. "How are we going to punish Rick B-526? He had a part to play in this as well."

Riq IV made a loud laugh of mockery at the very suggestion. "He was the only one with enough sense to destroy everything before it could fall into the hands of the enemy and you want to punish him? His actions may very well have saved us all from oblivion. If anything, the goddamn fool deserves a promotion!"

Rick Prime gave him a firm dissatisfied look. "He's still not registered-"

"Let me work that out." Riq IV icily cut him off. "Send technicians and a cleanup crew into the dimension to remove any remaining evidence. We're done here," he declared, having reached the end of his tether. "You can all get out of my sight!"

Surgeon Rick didn't wait for another word and hurriedly dragged his ex-boss out the door by the arm. Once in the hallway, he clutched at his hair and let out a noise that could only be described as a mix of anguish and bewilderment; not even he could believe the turn of events and his sense of loyalty to the Council had taken a huge hit because of it. "W-what the fuck WAS that?!" He hollered in no particular direction. "Why me?! I-I didn't do anything! Why are they punishing me for YOUR bullshit?!"

Ricktus just stared at him, the words barely registering. He wanted to say something, but all he could manage was a weak noise in the back of his throat as he sank to the ground; he could deal with being homeless, but no longer having a source of income and the fact that five out of six Council members had voted to get rid of him was sending his mind into a numb silence and his body was starting to follow.

Everything was well and truly fucked up.

"I got bills and a family to support, man! What the HELL am I gonna do now?!" Surgeon Rick paced back and forth; he was working himself into a frenzy. Without thinking, he kicked over a pot plant in his path and slammed a fist into the wall. "Screw these guys, I-I'm expendable!? I mean I already guessed it, but to actually hear them say that shit straight to my face?! FUCK!"

"HEY!" A Guard Rick that had been patrolling the hallways called out to him, alerted by the racket. "You can't damage Citadel property like that!"

"Fuck your property, asshole!" Surgeon Rick spat back. "Fuck plants, fuck this place, and FUCK YOU!" He was about to add more, but was distracted by the sound of muffled yelling coming from behind the closed door of Riq IV's private chambers; the Council of Ricks had become embroiled in an argument of their own.

The Guard Rick came up to stand beside him. "What the hell is happening in there?"

The question calmed the surgeon slightly. "The usual... i-it's all messed up, bro. They don't care about anyone but themselves, and this whole place is a fuckin' riot waiting to happen. It's only a matter of time before someone takes it out."

"Well duh," the Guard Rick said in a hushed tone, not wanting to be overheard. "All governments are like that. If this place ever goes to shit, it's gonna be precise, like an inside job, or-" He went quiet and stood at attention as the door suddenly swung open.

Five out of six members of the Council slowly made their way out, acting like nothing had ever happened. They each went their separate ways and the guard hastily followed after them, but Ricktiminus Sancheziminius stayed behind and patiently waited until they were all gone.

"You're still here. Good." The councilman spoke flatly. "I know what you're thinking, but don't worry about the Council. They'll come around in their own time." He subtly glanced up and down the hallway to make sure nobody else was nearby. "This is going to affect my supply chain, isn't it?"

Surgeon Rick's eyes widened, but he knew there was no point in hiding it. "Y-yeah, everything's gone. It's gonna take time to build up another batch unless I can find the stuff you need growing wild in another dimension somewhere."

"I don't care how long it takes, C-711. I know you're good for it." Ricktiminus Sancheziminius shrugged. "But you're going to need a new portal gun to do that. Anything else?"

"A new job, maybe? We lost all our shit, boss... the portal guns, the datapads, the computers, everything." Surgeon Rick glanced down at his ex-boss, who had since curled up into a ball. "We need some kinda reassurance that we're not totally screwed here."

"Please," the goateed councilman rolled his eyes. "As I said during the Council hearing, give me a few weeks. I'll figure something out. In the meantime, you can shut Riq IV up by retrieving that Morty from the dimension you left it in. I don't care which one of you does, but make sure you get some rest first. You look like shit."

"Oh yeah?" The surgeon tried to rack his brains for a witty reply, but he had been awake for too long and fatigue was starting to set in. "Well you're... you ARE shit."

"Whatever, just see that you get it done. I'll be in touch." Ricktiminus Sancheziminius shook his head and began walking off down the hallway. "Oh, and get that idiot up off the floor before someone trips over him."

* * *

It took Surgeon Rick a considerable amount of effort to haul both his tired self and his ex-boss back into the Citadel concourse, and after ten more minutes of dragging him through the accommodation sector in the middle of the structure, he found the apartment block that had been assigned to Rick.

The apartment itself turned out to be little more than a basic functional living space; there was a kitchenette along the left wall with a double bed in the corner, while the door to a bathroom and another bedroom existed on the right side. A dull grey couch occupied the middle of the room, which faced a flat screen TV on wall in front of it. It looked more like a simple college dorm room to him, but it was more than adequate for crash space.

A quick inspection of the bedroom revealed a crib by the door, a wardrobe, and a changing table; it had obviously been furnished with Morty in mind. The ceiling was covered in plastic glow-in-the-dark stars and Surgeon Rick couldn't help but grin at discovery; while incredibly puerile, it was the same kind of decoration he would have used on his daughter's bedroom all those years ago.

When he heard the sound of the other settling down on the couch, he turned around and waved a hand at their surroundings. "Not too shabby, huh? I could get used to this. I wonder how much it costs to rent?"

"The last place was free," Ricktus replied in a hollow faraway voice, "and it had a better view."

"Dude. I get that you're gonna be a moody bitch for a while, but you got off lightly considering how bad you fucked up this time. You should have listened to me!" Surgeon Rick felt his anger rising all over again. "And you know what's worse? I got dragged down with you! If I hadn't forged your signature on that crap I sent off to the lab, then I can't even imagine where we'd be right now. Probably royally effed in the a!"

"Probably...?"

"Yeah, but we're not, so, again, you're welcome, you..." The rest was muttered under the surgeon's breath as he wandered over to the bed and flopped down onto it. "Sancheziminius will sort everything out. You'll see." After making himself comfortable, he declared, "I got dibs on the left side."

"No offense, but what would Sancheziminius want with a half-blind cripple?" Ricktus snorted in disgust at the thought. "I don't really want a part in his illegitimate business practices either. There's better ways of making money than preying on other Rick's addictions and vices."

"Then tell him that. Dude got himself a place on the Council, sometimes he actually does proper administration wor-" Surgeon Rick's sentence ended abruptly when he heard the vibrations of his phone going off again in his pocket. In one swift motion, he yanked it out, looked at it, then threw it across the room. "Fuck you, Lizabeth! I already said I didn't wanna talk to you!"

"Is this a regular occurrence?" Ricktus finally glanced back at him. "You can't leave her hanging like that."

"Ugh... I know, we've been over this." Surgeon Rick's voice was muffled as he buried his face in his pillow. "If you're so worried about it, then YOU talk to her."

"You want me to pretend I'm you?" Ricktus raised an eyebrow at him, then got up to retrieve the old phone from the floor. He had mixed feelings about the idea; it had been well over a year since he had spoken with his own daughter and the thought of talking to another version of her was not a pleasant one. However, this was literally one of his last allies in the Citadel and he wanted to make amends, so with a great degree of reluctance he flipped the device open and put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Oh god, dad... I'm so glad you picked up, I... I was beginning to think you were dead." The female on the other end of the line began to cry. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice..."

Ricktus shot the surgeon an accusatory glare and covered the receiver with his hand, immediately regretting having agreed to it. "What's wrong with you? I thought you went over there all the time? When was the last time you actually saw this person?"

"Fuck her." Surgeon Rick tried to sound like couldn't have cared less, but in reality, it had been eating him alive for a long time. It was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment, so he put his hands behind his head and acted like he wasn't the slightest bit interested. "Make up some bullshit story and get her to leave me alone."

"Who's being the moody bitch now?" The doctor turned away and talked into the phone again. "Hi sweetie," it was forced and awkward, "I'm not dead, obviously. I've just been, uh, busy? I think?" He covered the receiver again and whispered back at his ex-assistant. "Give me something to work with here."

Surgeon Rick ignored him and began and began to hum aloud to himself.

Meanwhile, Lizabeth was already too wound up to call him out on the lie. "Dad... I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and I don't want to fight any more. Do you think you could stop hanging up on me so we can have a real conversation for once? Why won't you talk to me?"

"Uh, wow." He didn't know what to say; there was a lot of emotional baggage behind her words and he felt like he was being put on the spot. "I've been busy with work and stuff, yo." He repeated, throwing in the last part for authenticity. "Don't you get the money I keep sending? Tell me how it gets there again?"

"Dad, stop being a smartass. We don't need your money any more." Lizabeth's tone became apologetic. "I got a good paying job at the hospital and Jerry's taking care of things around the house. I don't care about what you've done in the past... I love you and I forgive you. Please come home?"

Ricktus glanced at Surgeon Rick again; he could have fabricated any story he wanted, but decided to go with what he knew. "Not a good time. Things have been hectic lately, plus I saved a life today, so there's that," he paused, then quickly added, "not bragging by the way. I'm just stating a fact."

"Wait... you're actually managing to hold down a job?" She actually sounded impressed.

"I'm pretty sure I just told you that." He didn't want to talk any more, and sounding weary came easily considering how genuine it was. "Look, we can deal with this, but not now. It's been a long day and I have to go."

"Do you promise?" The pain in the female's voice was evident. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry for everything I've said... I want you to be part of the family again."

"Yeah, bye." Ricktus hung up on her before she could get another word in. "Wow, that was..." He trailed off. "Not that it's any of my business, but feel free to fill me in on everything that's happened to you if you want me to talk to your daughter again."

"Nope." Surgeon Rick stubbornly replied.

"Suit yourself." Ricktus moved around the apartment to draw the curtains shut and turned the overhead light off. "That will stall her for a while, but if you want it to stop, then maybe you should actually consider visiting her?"

"Not happening." Surgeon Rick firmly told him. When he felt the weight sit down next to him on the bed, he shuffled over to give him more room. "So was it a sob story or was it about money? Told you she was a bitch."

"It was a lot more than that. It sounded pretty genuine." There were two soft clicks followed by two loud thumps as he disconnected his prosthetic limbs and dumped them on the floor beside him. "What you do in you own dimension is your call, but I strongly advise patching things up with your family while you still have one." He was already drifting off to sleep by the time his head lay back on the pillow.

Surgeon Rick was relieved to hear the soft snoring that soon followed; it meant that he didn't have to talk any more. While he knew that avoiding the long-standing issues with his daughter was unhealthy and would ultimately fail, he was still frustrated that she had made herself known on top of everything else he was already dealing with. With a sour sigh, he rolled onto his stomach and finally allowed himself a long overdue rest.

* * *

Their sleep would be interrupted only a few hours later with the loud knocking that came from the front door of the apartment. Ricktus was the first one up and he grumpily clunked over to answer it. He was immediately met with the sight of a Guard Rick, who shoved a package straight at his chest and stepped back again.

"What the hell is this?" The doctor tried to focus his eyes on the blurry shape ahead, still very much half-asleep. "How did you know we were here?"

"Let's just say I'm very good at my job." The Guard Rick spoke formally. "Sancheziminius sends his regards. He would have come himself but you're not important enough."

"Yeah, thanks for nothing." Ricktus slammed the door on him and carried the box to the coffee table to open it. Inside, he found two new standard issue portal guns, two replacement datapads, as well as a single sheet of paper containing their next set of instructions. "Hey, C-711, wake up and come over here, this looks important." He quickly read it and set it aside; it was just the same order they'd already been given. "Oh... which one of us is going to retrieve B-526's Morty? You're probably better off doing it."

"Bro... I-I don't wanna," came the deflated response. Surgeon Rick had barely been awake a minute and he was already troubled; the mere mention of Morty's name had him concerned that he didn't have an update on Rick's condition yet. "I couldn't even tell the bird person dude that his best friend was dead. How am I supposed to go back and tell him nope, never mind, we made a mistake?"

"Really? And here I was thinking you'd jump at the chance." Ricktus raised an eyebrow. "You'd get to be the bearer of good news. His friends would likely thank you and think you're amazing... maybe? I don't know, you're more familiar with them than I am."

"Dude, no. YOU'RE the one who fucked this up." The other reminded him with sudden harshness, still bitter over what had transpired during the Council hearing. "You're the reason we have to go back and get him at all!"

"I'm... not on friendly terms with the people of that planet to say the least." The doctor made an uneasy noise at the thought.

"Sounds like another 'you' problem if you ask me. You wanna fix some of the shit you've done? Well, start with that!" Surgeon Rick continued to verbally berate him. "You're the reason my brother is in the infirmary, and if it wasn't for my business contact and doing all that shit behind your back, then fuck... FUCK!" He couldn't properly articulate his words and they devolved into furious unintelligible nonsense.

The other just stood there and let him go. As much as he wanted to counter with his reasoning behind everything, he didn't; he knew he'd have to live with his mistakes and his ex-assistant had a valid point. When it was quiet again, he simply nodded in acknowledgment, picked up one of the portal guns and the datapad, then headed for the door.

"What, so that's it?" Surgeon Rick sat up properly. "You agree with me?!"

"C-711, take some more time out and go back to sleep." Ricktus concealed his feelings behind a stoic expression; it bitterly amused him that he'd lost more between the two of them and yet, he was the one trying to calm him down. "You might also want to consider dropping by the clinic and getting proper medical treatment for your ankle and plasma burn."

"Fuck you, bro!" It was all he could think of to say as he pushed himself off the bed and headed for the bathroom. "Don't dodge the issue!"

"No, I get it. It's just pointless to keep going on about it." Ricktus carefully watched him from the doorway. "You're going over to the infirmary at some point, aren't you? Call me if you have news on B-526."

"Yeah," the comment managed to disarm his temper. "O-of course."

"You know, you've got the room to yourself while I'm gone. It's a good opportunity to take a dump in peace and quiet." Ricktus tentatively offered in an attempt at humor. "Eating fiber and staying hydrated is for important for bowel health."

"Dude, what the fuck? I was only going in there for a shower. I-I need one because I stink!" Surgeon Rick stuttered back. "You know we got covered in bug guts, right? The only reason I didn't take one before napping was because I was so damn tired!"

The doctor finally left the room with a faint smirk on his face, leaving the other loudly rambling at his back in protest; he knew just how to push his buttons.

* * *

 **December 3rd** **,** **11:50am Local Time, 2001  
Birdperson's Tree House  
Bird World, Dimension B-526 **

* * *

His amusement faded when he stepped out of the portal and onto the landing of Birdperson's tree house. Ricktus had arrived with no real plan on how to take Morty back peacefully, and he felt vulnerable without the protection of weapons or his bee hybrids for backup this time around. Right from the start he knew it was a bad idea to just waltz inside, but he pushed through his apprehension and did it anyway; this was something he needed to fix and there was no point wasting time standing around outside.

Squanchy was the first one to spot him. He was still trying to adjust to the news that Rick was dead, but curiosity overtook him as he slid off the couch. He identified him as a different Rick right away; his scar, his glasses, and his clothing were all off. His scent wasn't right either, further confirming that this wasn't the Rick he was used to.

Ricktus just stood there and waited to see what would happen; he wasn't being attacked and took it as a good sign. "Hey. I know this is probably weird, so if you have any questions, don't hesitate to lay them out for me."

"Well, you're not Sanchez," the feline stated the obvious. "But squanch, man! You could sure pull it off and make a good replacement."

"That's... not a question." Ricktus stubbornly pointed out to him. "Don't you want to know why I'm here?"

Although the feline creature knew he was a fraud, his next reaction wasn't hostility; his last encounter with another Rick hadn't ended badly. He began to pace around him as if sizing him up, then put his nose to his pant leg to get a deeper whiff. When he smelled hydraulic oil along with the biological components, he drew his head back in surprise. "Whoa, you got some major squanch goin' on there. At least you don't smell like rotting fruit and sickness."

"Yeah, about that," Ricktus twisted one side of his mouth into an uncomfortable frown. "I'll just get to the point. Your Rick is..."

He never finished his sentence. There was a sudden high-pitched squeal from the next room as Morty announced his feelings on being handled by somebody he barely knew. "N-NOO!"

Squanchy's ears flattened against his skull and his face twisted in torment. "Oh god, it's doing it again... it hasn't stopped squanching like that since it got here. Get it away from us!"

"Wow, really?" Ricktus's eyes widened at the request; he hadn't expected it to be that simple at all. "Uh, that be arranged."

The commotion got louder as Morty escaped from his caretaker and ran into the living room. Birdperson followed after him with relative ease, though he stopped in his tracks at the sight ahead and all the feathers on his neck bristled in a warning display. When Morty tried to make a dash for the spiky haired man, he plucked him up off the ground and protectively held on.

"Squanchy," Birdperson said plainly. "Step aside."

Morty's immediate response was a loud cry and he reached out with both arms towards the doctor; as far as he was concerned, this was Rick, or at least good enough to be him. After not seeing him for so long, being prevented from getting to him caused his protest to grow into a desperate screaming demand. When Birdperson did not let go, he started thrashing violently in his arms.

It was painful to watch, and even more painful to know that Morty actually wanted him. "Hey, come on," Ricktus said in a low voice. "Give him what he wants, huh? Hasn't he been through enough torment? I know you're angry about what I've done, but I can make all your problems go away. If you'll just hear me out-"

"You," Birdperson interrupted him abruptly. "I know you. You are the one that captured Rick against his will. You were also the one who shot myself and four other members of my flock out of the sky. Then you knocked out my neighbor and took this one away from her." He nodded down at the little boy still screaming at him. "Why should I listen to anything you have to say?"

"Yeah, guilty as charged, but did anyone die?" Ricktus growled back, suddenly frustrated. "I had valid reasons and this is why you need to listen. I have important news for you, all I need is five minutes of your time-"

"No," Birdperson spoke over him again and spread his wings out in a display of intimidation. "You are a threat and must be removed. Get out of here before I am forced to strike you down."

"Whoa, take it easy, BP!" Squanchy moved into the space between the two and raised his paws up to mediate. "Is there any harm in letting him talk? You might even be able to squanch him for some pointers on humans."

"I can do one better," Ricktus said self-assuredly, "I can take him away and you'd never have to deal with him again."

It was the best news he'd heard in days. "Great!" Squanchy enthusiastically clapped his paws together. "Where do we sign up?"

"No." Birdperson shook his head. "It was Rick's final wish for us to take care of Morty and I cannot dishonor his request. I will not hand him over to a dangerous inadequate substitute simply because he has shown up."

"Who cares? He looks like Sanchez... close enough if you ask me." Squanchy tried to reason with him. "Besides, isn't he better off with his own kind? Isn't that what Rick said himself?" He glanced up at the fussing child. "Look how much he wants to squanch over there."

"Yes, but Rick also very explosively expressed the fact that he did not want to leave Morty with another Rick." Although Birdperson remained completely expressionless, the ruffled feathers on his forehead suggested that he wasn't in the least bit impressed with Squanchy's attitude. "You have made your opinion quite clear already. If you do not wish to play a part in Morty's upbringing, then you are free to leave."

"Goddamnit!" Ricktus pinched his brow. "Your Rick's not dead! We got caught up in some trouble and he was the one who ended up suffering for it. He's been critically injured and needed surgery to save his life, but he's recovering from it now. It's also probably safe to say that his illness has finally been diagnosed as well." He deliberately left out the part about being responsible for it. "This is has all been one big misunderstanding, but we can fix everything. I've got orders to take that Morty back to the Citadel, so... if you'd like to hand him over, I'll be on my way."

Birdperson became completely silent; he wanted to believe that his best friend was still alive. Hearing that Rick had found himself in harm's way yet again sounded authentic, but he was reluctant to trust the doctor's words.

Meanwhile, Squanchy's reaction was a complete opposite and he positively squeaked with joy. "Oh my god... the goddamn bag of squanch is alive?!"

"For now. I'm still waiting to hear more." Ricktus released a tense breath he'd been holding in and finally allowed himself to relax a little. "Give him to me. He's going to be a lot less upset if you do."

"No. Morty is staying here." Birdperson's face remained blank. "As much as I would like to believe your story, you have provided no evidence to support it. If Rick is truly alive and wishes to take Morty back, then surely he would do it himself?"

"Ugh, what did I just say to you? Is your planet so backwards that you don't know what anesthesia is?" Ricktus stared hard at him. "He's not awake yet. It's going to be days before he's well enough to sit up, let alone stand. But if you need convincing that badly, why don't you just see him for yourself? The infirmary doesn't have formal visiting hours so you can sit with him if you want. I just don't know how they're going to take you being there, you're not a Rick and they're a bit... uh, protective."

Birdperson remained unconvinced and did not move.

"You want me to leave without him? Because I can make it a lot harder than it needs to be." Ricktus openly challenged him, becoming impatient. "Here's what's going to happen. You either give him to me now, or another version of me that you don't want to run into will send armed personnel into your dimension and take him by force. It's your choice."

Birdperson didn't know what to think now. There was nothing in the doctor's body language or tone to suggest he was lying, which meant that the open threat could not be ignored either. He knew he would be taking a huge risk by agreeing to his first suggestion, but returning Morty back where he belonged was more important than his own reservations. After carefully considering his options, he finally gave in and held the little boy out for him to take. "Very well, I will go with you on one condition – I get to decide what to do with Morty after I have seen Rick. I just hope that you are indeed correct."

It had been a while since Ricktus had properly held Morty, and he was more than a little clumsy with it. Morty didn't help either, and he was partially choked as the little boy tightly hugged him around the neck. Just holding him filled him with a great deal of pain; it was a stark reminder that his universe had cheated him out of his own Morty, and that his goal of obtaining another seemed so much more unreachable now.

For all the noise he had been making, he was relatively easy to calm down again; all it took was a few simple pats on the back and just standing there with him. While he knew he wasn't an adequate substitute for the real thing, being so readily accepted told him that he was still a better candidate than the others around him.

"I'm sorry, Morty." He would have said so much more if they were alone. "I'm sorry I'm not your Rick."

A sinister thought suddenly crossed his mind; there was literally nothing stopping him from whipping out his portal gun and kidnapping him. Neither Squanchy or Birdperson would be able to stop him if he was quick enough, and as far as he knew, they had no way to chase him across dimensions. However, as tempting as it was, it was his own conscience that held him back; he didn't have it in him to deprive a Morty of his Rick when he had such a strong bond with him. There was still the outstanding fact that Rick had taken a hit for him for no apparent reason and stealing his Morty now would just be a major insult.

With a resigning sigh, he conceded defeat; he would just have to find another, no matter how long it took.

"See?" Squanchy was annoyingly smug. "Told you he was better off with his own kind."

Birdperson merely stood there with his arms folded, unsatisfied; although this was the quietest he'd seen Morty since he'd arrived, he hadn't wanted Squanchy to be right. "Stay there." He quietly instructed before slipping into another room.

It was then that Ricktus noticed the smell; it was like old diapers and stale body sweat. He screwed his face up and would have pulled Morty away if he wasn't being hugged so tightly. "When was the last time you washed him?"

"We didn't." Squanchy admitted. "He wouldn't let us. He just kept squanching... so much squanching..." He pinned his ears back again. "Don't humans lick themselves clean? We tried feeding him too, but he was pretty terrible at hunting."

"What!?" Ricktus choked out. "How was Rick comfortable with leaving him here with you? If this had gone on longer, y-you... you could have starved him to death!"

Birdperson returned with the portal gun that Rick had given him a couple of days ago. "In our defense, Morty rejected every food that was offered to him. I am not certain if he did this out of grief, if he did not like what was being presented, or because he is as stubborn as Rick himself." He was momentarily silent as he turned the dials, and the plasma sphere flickered up the bulb as it was turned on. "I will need assistance in using this to get back here."

Ricktus narrowed his eyes at the device. "Wait... why do you have that, and where did you get it?"

"Hey, yeah, why did you get that out? Rick said it was only meant to be squanched for emergencies." Squanchy spoke up. "I don't think you should be using it for other stuff."

"Squanchy," Birdperson replied, completely monotone. "I believe this would be an appropriate time to use it. As there is nothing stopping this untrustworthy Rick from leaving me stranded once we have arrived in the new dimension, taking Rick's backup portal gun along will give me a guaranteed way to return."

"Can't argue with that." Ricktus conceded. "But it should be confiscated. Only a Rick is supposed to have access to that kind of technology, it's too risky in the hands of somebody like you. He should never have given it to you."

"In my experiences with Rick, he seems to enjoy doing things that he should not be doing."

"Can't argue with that either." Ricktus grunted in frustration. While he knew he should be removing it right there and then, it was keeping him agreeable. With one hand still firmly holding Morty in place, he fired his own portal gun at the nearest wall; taking him back to the Citadel so he could get some basic care was a higher priority. "We're leaving," it was an instruction and not a request. "We'll have to get creative if we want to get into the infirmary, so shut up and do what I say if you don't want to get shot."

Birdperson raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "I am suddenly less confident with this idea."

* * *

With nothing to do, Surgeon Rick found himself in the Citadel infirmary. He'd arrived partly because he wanted an update on Rick's condition and to read his medical records, but mostly because he wanted to know that his friend was going to be OK.

Getting into the recovery ward wasn't difficult; the other medical Ricks knew who he was and didn't care that he was there. Finding Rick was easy as well, and the sight he was met with was more or less what he expected; he was laid out on a hospital bed in a dimly lit room all by himself and had been partially covered with blankets to keep him warm.

"Hey," Surgeon Rick said casually as he stood beside him. "You're a fuckin' idiot, bro. You know that, right?"

No response; he was completely out to it.

A plastic face mask supplied him with oxygen and a beeping heart monitor constantly tracked his heartbeat, confirming that he was still very much alive. He was also hooked up to two IV lines - one had been inserted into in his right forearm and was being used to replenish blood components, while the second was situated in his right wrist and linked up with two bags of fluid hanging from the stand beside the bed. One contained saline solution for hydration, but the other was unlabeled; it was cloudy-white, its purpose unknown to him.

Looking further down the bed, the surgeon observed another tube that disappeared below the thick heavy bandages on Rick's abdomen and delivered liquid food to him via a pump. He also had a catheter line that snaked from under the covers to a collection bag hanging off the side of the bed, which was partially full and had pink sediment accumulating in the bottom; they'd obviously already started the treatment to dissolve the remaining crystallized serum in his system.

Surgeon Rick pulled up a chair and quietly sat for a while. Just listening to the rhythmic steady pace of the machines in the room was a good sign; it meant that Rick was finally stable. He wasn't quite in the clear yet, but he'd come a long way for someone who had nearly died only 24 hours ago.

The Citadel infirmary had no ICU to speak of because of its small size, but the orderlies were never far away and came in at frequent intervals. One recorded vitals, while another checked IV lines and administered medication into them. As soon as they were gone again, the surgeon found Rick's medical records at the foot of the bed and began to read, though the surgical notes detailed most of what he already knew; his broken ribs had been set, his perforated stomach had been sewn back up, and his liver had been replaced entirely. They also outlined just how lucky he was; the projectile had narrowly missed his spleen and pancreas, but had torn a major artery and if it had been any larger, he wouldn't have survived at all.

Flipping the page revealed charts and a slew of numbers mapping his progress, but it was boring and he put it back where it belonged; he still had a long way to go, but all that mattered was that he was alive. There was also the outstanding concern that he might have suffered brain damage while deprived of oxygen after flatlining, but it couldn't be evaluated until he woke up again.

When the dinner cart rolled by, he stole a tray of food from it and reclined in the chair to watch the patient TV above the bed. By the time he'd finished it off, Ricktus arrived in the doorway with Morty in his arms and Birdperson following close behind.

"Holy crap... you actually got him back." Surgeon Rick sat up in surprise and stared at Morty, then at the feathery male. "How did you get him in without the guards noticing?"

"Trust me," Ricktus coolly replied, "you don't want to know."

"Get him outta here," Surgeon Rick urged him. "If they find out you brought him in, you're gonna get in so much shit."

"How could I possibly get into any more trouble than I'm in now?" The doctor made a short hollow laugh and his attention drifted towards the empty tray on the bedside table. "Why did you eat that? It's meant to be for the patients."

"Because I was hungry? Duh. Besides, he doesn't mind." Surgeon Rick turned towards Rick and flashed him a grin. "Do you, bro? Say nothing if you're OK with it."

No reply.

With a fed up sigh, Ricktus moved across the room and offered Morty out to him. "Get him to the clinic as soon as you can. He's alert and asymptomatic, but Riq IV won't be satisfied until he's been checked over." He stepped away again and began to assess Rick in much the same way that Surgeon had. When he found his medical records, he became completely engrossed in reading them.

As soon as Morty was in the surgeon's arms, he grabbed and pulled at his hair. Even though he could see Rick quite well from his new vantage point, he didn't recognize him in his current state and wasn't interested in trying to get to him. With everything he'd been through in the last couple of days, either of his dimensional counterparts were comforting enough.

Surgeon Rick could quite easily tolerate Morty's abuse, but not his offensive smell. "Holy shit, did you find him in a fucking sewer? Goddamn..."

Ricktus flattened his brow, but did not look up. "I may as well have. B-526 made a terrible guardianship decision, but I'll tell you about it later." He peered over the top of the page he was reading and glared at Birdperson. "Now's not a good time."

Meanwhile, Birdperson stood at Rick's side and silently watched his still form; he was nothing like he remembered. He was used to seeing the strange little human standing tall, proud, and full of energy. Right now he was none of those things and only looked vulnerable and completely helpless. Rick certainly didn't smell like himself either; he was devoid of his typical alcoholic scent and an unnatural antiseptic medicinal odor surrounded him instead.

Although the tubes and machines connected to him were largely beyond his comprehension, he knew he was still alive by the steady rise and fall of his chest. He'd seen Rick down and out like this more times than he cared to remember, but knew he was much tougher than his scrawny frame would suggest.

At least he looked comfortable.

He reached out with a hand to gently touch his shoulder as if needing to confirm that it was really him. Once satisfied, Birdperson finally sat down in another free chair in the room. "Can he hear us?"

"No." The doctor's cold clinical voice responded right away. "He's still under anesthesia. It'll be several hours before he wakes up at the very least." He flipped two pages of the medical records and kept reading. "But it looks like the surgical team wants to keep him sedated to give him more time to heal."

Birdperson slowly nodded. "Is he in pain?"

"Hah, definitely not." Surgeon Rick had to smirk at the question. "Have you seen the list of shit they've got him on? Bro would be trippin' balls if he were conscious right now."

"Will he survive?"

"Probably?" Surgeon Rick took a moment to think before giving a proper answer. "It's looking more and more likely as time goes on. He's doing better than he was three hours ago, and he's better than he was six hours before that." The questions were much too simple for his liking. "I-I don't think you're quite grasping the situation here... don't you have invasive surgery on your planet? What happens if one of you gets cut open and your guts spill out?"

"We just die." Birdperson replied, his voice as emotionless as ever.

"Uh..." Surgeon Rick didn't know how to respond; it hadn't sounded like sarcasm or a joke. "That used to happen with us too, but we've kinda moved on from those days."

Birdperson sat back in the chair and silently marveled at how advanced the medical technology around him was; everything was either dedicated to keeping Rick alive or for monitoring him. It eased his mind even if he didn't understand it and he knew his best friend was in good hands here. "Very well. I will allow you to have Morty back if you are certain that Rick is going to wake up again." He placed a hand on Rick's shoulder again, noting how warm he felt. "What happens to him now?"

"We wait." Surgeon Rick shrugged; he was more than used to explaining the post-operative process. "Now he risks stuff like infection, blood clots, and kidney failure. He has no chance of rejection, though... his liver came from another Rick. Being able to pull a DNA-identical donor from an infinite number of realities sure beats a waiting list, right?"

Birdperson just blankly stared; the concept was completely lost on him.

"Ugh, whatever." Surgeon Rick shrugged. "He's on detoxification treatment as well. It's experimental, but the Lab Ricks know they're doing. He should perk right up once it's done."

"How do you know this?" Ricktus looked up. After leafing through the medical records again, he began pacing around the bed, slightly irritated that he had missed such a detail. "It hasn't been documented."

"It's easy to make an educated guess if you're paying attention, boss. Check it out," Surgeon Rick pointed to the collection bag hanging off the side of the bed. "See? It's working too, his kidneys are busy flushing it out. Kinda gross, but it's effective."

Ricktus stared for a long minute, needing time to process what he was looking at. "O-oh god..." His voice faltered when he finally spoke again. "I really did cause this..."

All eyes were on the door when the sound of marching footsteps could be heard coming up the hallway. Without warning, Riq IV's personal entourage of guards barged their way in and trained the glowing red laser sights of their weapons straight onto Birdperson the instant he was spotted.

Riq IV was not far behind. He casually sauntered in with his hands behind his back, looking like he didn't have a care in the world. "Well, well, well... it seems like you can't keep yourselves away from my asset for long, can you?" His eyes locked on Birdperson and glared at him like he was a disease. "What is THAT doing here?"

"I went with a peaceful negotiation option, sir." The doctor stood at attention as he quickly explained. "He's not likely to cause harm and I'll get him out of here as soon as he's done."

"No. He leaves NOW." Riq IV snapped a finger and pointed at his guards. "You know what to do."

Before Birdperson could react, he was forcefully pinned to the ground with both arms seized behind his back, while a second guard moved in to immobilize his wings and kick his portal gun out of reach.

When it was done, Riq IV stood over him. "You know, I could have you terminated just for being here. The location of the Citadel is top secret and you know too much. But I won't... consider yourself lucky you have friends in high places." His face brimmed with haughty arrogance. "Do not come back. You won't be so fortunate next time."

"I-is that necessary?" Surgeon Rick opted to stay out of the way while the same thing happened to his ex-boss. He remained seated and watched on as Ricktus's portal gun was used to locate the dimension Birdperson had come from, and then a portal was created to dispatch him back into it.

"Now that unpleasantness is out of the way... why did he even have this?" Riq IV retrieved the portal gun from the floor, then carelessly threw it over his shoulder. "It doesn't look amateur. Tell me what we're dealing with."

One of the Guard Ricks immediately fumbled for the device and took out a scanner to examine it. "It... it appears to be a Council issue core in a custom build, sir." He paused to wait for the readout. "It's registered to Rick D-491 here at the Citadel."

"Well, it's mine now. Take it away." Riq IV turned his fiery gaze back on the doctor and the surgeon. "Something you forgot to mention during the Council hearing, perhaps?" He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Whatever. I'd rather hear an update on my asset than another one of your excuses."

Surgeon Rick wearily sighed; he'd literally just been through the same conversation with Birdperson. Still, despite his soured opinion of Riq IV, he willingly gave him the story and spared no detail. "We're gonna get the dude's Morty checked out after this," he quickly added. "Everything is going just as you wanted."

"Good." Riq IV seemed satisfied. He glanced off to the side as if debating something, then decided to just say it anyway. "If the asset is going to live, then I have a job for both of you. The Council was... too swift to pass judgment considering nothing of value was lost." He made a dissatisfied sound in the back of his throat, thoroughly hating being wrong in any capacity. "If you want to nurse your assigned Rick back to health, then I will allow you to collect your 2.1 million credits when it's done."

"You mean like an orderly, sir?" Ricktus slowly got to his feet, not quite sure how to take what he was hearing. "Because that's waaaay below my level of expertise."

Riq IV bared his teeth. "Do you want the damn job or not?"

The doctor gave a short nod as silence came over him, not wanting to dispute it.

"Excellent. See that he gets this when he wakes up and make sure he understands its significance." the Council leader stepped forward and set a small plain colored box down on the beside table.

Curiosity overtook the surgeon and he wasted no time picking it up to examine the contents. "H-holy shit," was all he could manage to get out; inside was a gold Council of Ricks pin nestled on a small black velvet cushion. "What is this for?"

Riq IV didn't reply immediately. "As you are well aware, a cleanup crew was dispatched into Dimension Q-316 to deal with the aftermath of your little mess... but as you said, it wasn't little, and there's nothing to clean up." As he began to pace, it was difficult to tell whether he was irritated or impressed. "They are yet to report exactly how large the series of explosions were, but it's safe to say that everything within a thousand seeton radius has either been completely vaporized or vitrified."

Surgeon Rick gave a low whistle of appreciation.

"Furthermore, we had the archivists look into those battle plans you submitted to the Council. The circumstances in your dimension were... unfortunate. But fear not - everything appears to be dead, and it looks like you can back up that absurd claim you made during the last assembly." Riq IV settled his attention back on the doctor. "If their findings are to be believed, then this Rick is almost solely responsible for dismantling a proto-version of the Galactic Federation before it had a chance to form." A cruel grin grew across his face. "Obliterating both the enemy and the technology they wanted to exploit is an effective strategy. A true 'destroyer of worlds' indeed."

There was no reply; the other two Ricks just stared at him in stunned silence.

"There will be an official induction ceremony once he is well enough to be in attendance. Make sure he actually shows up." The Council leader's expression was almost predatory as he unhurriedly headed for the door. "He is an exemplary example of a Rick, and whether he wants to admit it or not, he's a leader. Make sure he keeps that badge. He's earned it."

"But... what about the potential brain damage?" Surgeon Rick found his voice again. "We can't rule it out-"

Riq IV cut him off with a harsh growl. "I'll deal with it."

"If I may speak candidly," Ricktus seemed hesitant, but spoke his mind anyway. "I'm not going to dispute your reasoning for issuing B-526 with a gold pin, but... is he the Rickest Rick? Is that the reason why you're making us spend all this time and effort keeping him alive?"

"I thought I told you not to speculate that Rick's importance... you must have a poor memory." Riq IV stopped in the doorway and turned back to glare at them. "Nothing is confirmed, and you would do best to shut the fuck up about it until I tell you what the Council's next move is. Is that clear?"

More silence.

"Good. You DO know how to shut up," Riq IV slipped into the hallway. "Make sure it stays that way."

Once the room was quiet and clear of guards again, the surgeon carefully closed the box back up and returned it to the bedside table. A quick check on Morty revealed that he had since fallen asleep despite all the chaos around them; his ordeal on Bird World had been an exhausting one and it had finally caught up with him.

Surgeon Rick vaguely wished he could do the same.

"So," he offered an attempt at conversation. "All your shit gets blown up and this guy gets a promotion because of it. Sucks to be you, doesn't it?"

"You heard what Riq IV said, C-711... shut up." Ricktus's weary tone suggested that he didn't want to talk about it.

Surgeon Rick ignored him and continued anyway. "Lucky thing I was awesome to him, right? Because now he literally has the power to make our lives miserable. Hopefully he won't turn into too much of an asshole because of it."

"You're not going to have that problem," the doctor pulled up a chair to sit beside him. "You've already forged an alliance with him. He'll remember that."

"I dunno, man... authority corrupts people." Surgeon Rick idly watched the steady pulsing line of the heart monitor. "Maybe he'll turn power hungry like the rest of the Council or some shit?" He leaned back in the chair, discontent with the thought; it was just another hypothetical and he wouldn't know what would happen for certain until Rick woke up again.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll treat you favorably considering what you've already done for him." Ricktus's next words were accompanied by a dry laugh. "Case in point - Rick D-491's portal gun core didn't end up with his strange bird person friend for no reason. Care to explain that one?"

"Nope," the reply was too quick and almost defensive. "Fuck you."

"See? You'll be fine." The doctor removed his glasses to rub a hand over his face; he was still exhausted both mentally and physically. "You're not the one who nearly killed him. He'll remember that too."

"Nearly, but didn't." Surgeon Rick grumpily sighed; he knew if he entertained this for too long, his ex-boss would slip into another one of his moods again. Instead, he decided to change the subject entirely. "Hey... thanks for doing the thing. Uh, with Lizabeth, I-I mean."

"Whatever," Ricktus shrugged it off, "I bought you time. Don't be an idiot about it."

A few moments of silence passed and Surgeon Rick stared off into nothingness; with Morty fast asleep on him and the knowledge that Rick had a good chance of pulling through, his mind was in a much better place than it had been. He also knew he'd been far too grumpy earlier and should probably say something about it. "Hey, uh..." Before he even started speaking, it was already awkward; Ricks as a rule were generally too proud to apologize. "About the bullshit back at the apartment. Sorry, I guess... I-I was just mad. We didn't get banished and now Riq IV wants us to take care of the bro here, so that's gotta be worth something, right? It means you can fix the mess you made."

Ricktus simply looked back at him with a flat expression, making it obvious that he didn't want to talk.

Surgeon Rick tried another peace offering strategy instead. "So... after this Morty business is done with, y-you, uh... you wanna go get a beer?"

Ricktus shrugged again; he didn't drink beer. "Sure."


	29. Rickunions

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty is an [Adult Swim] cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is unofficial fanfiction. Please support the official release.

 **NOTE:** Slightly smaller chapter this time around, but it will have two halves to it. Gonna try to get these out a little faster. Hopefully.

* * *

 **Chapter 29 – Rickunions  
**

Despite the Council's best efforts to keep the events of Dimension Q-316 and Rick's achievements a secret, word got out anyway. As soon as it had, Ricks from all over the Citadel were either freely discussing it amongst themselves or actively trying to get into the infirmary to talk to him. Some wanted to wanted to see what the fabled 'Rickest Rick' looked like for themselves, while others were opportunists who wanted to try and form alliances or earn his favors. Then there were the ones who just wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

It became disruptive in a short space of time and not even having guards posted outside the infirmary's doors could keep the unwanted traffic at bay. By the third day of it, the employees were fed up and a meeting was called so they could discuss what to do.

"I can't keep working like this!" One of the ward orderly Ricks angrily exclaimed as he threw both hands in the air. "Do you know what happened when the last one got in here? H-he tripped over the goddamn ECG monitor and disconnected the damn thing. We thought the patient had crashed!"

"I say you should put the entire infirmary on lockdown," the other full-time orderly growled through gritted teeth, genuinely frustrated. "If this guy's really that fucking important, then you gotta do something. Up the security or move him outta here!" His attention shifted from his work colleague to the two Council members also present in the room, and then finally to the doctor and surgeon as he tried to gauge their reactions.

Riq IV made a soft thoughtful hum in consideration and slowly nodded his head. "Yes, that would be the easier option. We wanted to keep it classified until the induction ceremony, but now the Council has to pretend and play this whole thing off like we intended it all along." His angry gaze also shifted towards Ricktus. "Q-316. You're the overqualified one here. Surely the asset is safe to relocate by now?"

Ricktus replied with a discontent sound and moved to the foot of Rick's bed to read over his most recent medical records. "You could," he answered tentatively. "He's no longer critical, but he's going to need strict medical observations every couple of hours until he wakes up again. I'm still not liking some of these numbers."

"Do it," Ricktiminus Sancheziminius agreed, "I'd rather see him hidden away until the time is right. Although some Ricks here at the Citadel have access to the interdimensional database, the few who do would rather keep their mouths shut than entertain the plebs. But where would you move him to?"

"I know of a good care center in the Noobynoopnoop Cluster in Dimension K-738." One of the orderly Ricks suggested. "Why not dump him there?"

"NO. I don't trust some random bullshit aliens with MY asset," Riq IV aggressively spat back. "Give me something better than that!"

Ricktus gave Surgeon Rick a sideways glance as the gears of thought turned over in his head. "Hey, doesn't your daughter work at a hospital now?"

"Yeah, so what?" Surgeon Rick raised an eyebrow. "It'd likely be a basic intern job or something, she's still at university. She's not qualified to do anything important yet."

"Yes, but we are," Ricktus continued. "What's she majoring?"

"Ugh, why are you asking this?" Surgeon Rick was fast becoming irritated. "Kiddo wants to become a neurosurgeon. I-I tried talking her out of it years ago, but Lizabeth is adamant on achieving my career goal. I can't tell her what to do or destroy her dreams... so all I can do is pay for her education." He was momentarily silent. "Damn, that kid is gonna go far."

"She can record observations," Ricktus slowly nodded his head as he reasoned through his outstanding thought. "It would be good experience for her."

Surgeon Rick narrowed his eyes. "Where are you going with this?"

Instead of answering his ex-assistant, Ricktus faced the Council leader and pitched the rest of his idea. "Let us manage this. If we finish Rick B-526's care in one of our home realities, it won't look suspicious. No-one would think to look for him in some nobody silver-ranked Rick's dimension, so I propose moving him to C-711's dimension and hometown. I would suggest my own but it would be, uh... far less appropriate."

"What? NO! That's my shit to deal with!" Surgeon Rick loudly protested. "What are you thinking, bro? You know the name 'Rick Sanchez' is one of the most high profile names in all the hospitals in the tri-state area in my dimension, right? And if a 'Rick Sanchez' just so happens to turn up on their books, imagine what's going to happen. They'll think he's me. Think of all the questions they'll ask... I don't wanna deal with that kind of heat!"

"You wouldn't have to if we set up in your garage and do it ourselves." Ricktus continued. "The two of us are overqualified and your Beth can perform simple tasks. She wants to reconnect with you. Now's the time to play it to your advantage."

"N-no way, man! Stay the fuck off my turf and leave that shit alone!" Surgeon Rick raised his voice just below a yell. "What about the traceable brainwaves? I avoid home because of that shit, a-and you want three of us to go there?!"

"Relax, C-711. I don't think anything is actively trying to hunt you down. You don't exactly seem like the intergalactic antagonist type." Ricktus dryly mused. "If we're only there a few days, it shouldn't pose too much of a risk. Besides, you can use her as a free babysitting service. You get to make up with your daughter, Morty gets to see his family again, and we get to fix some more of the mess I've made. It's a win-win situation for everyone."

"I-I said NO!" Surgeon Rick's tone was stubbornly defiant now. "Can't you just respect that?!"

"Oh, would the two of you just shut UP!?" Riq IV snapped at them, and then was calm again as he tried to steer the conversation back on track. "Last time the asset was in your care, you almost killed him. Why should now be any different?"

"I understand your hesitation, sir, but the crystal enzyme treatment is working." Ricktus quickly explained. "Our job would be providing basic care like one of these guys." He pointed towards the orderlies. "If we screwed up their job, then we'd truly be incompetent. You'd have my blessing to banish me from the Citadel forever."

"Hmm..." Riq IV brought a hand up to his chin and stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "I still don't trust you. I'll send two of the Citadel guards with you to make sure you actually do the job properly." His stern cold eyes locked on the doctor's own and his voice became threatening. "If you harm my asset again this time, I'll do worse than banish you."

Ricktus scowled back at the Council leader, but chose to say nothing; he was willing to take anything he could get. "Understood."

"Don't I get a say in this!?" Surgeon Rick turned away and pinched his brow, needing time to calm down. "I-I didn't even want ME in my own dimension, let alone five of me!"

"You're the one who wanted a new job." Ricktiminus Sancheziminius curtly reminded him. "This is the best the Council can offer until we can find you something more... long term."

The surgeon went quiet for several minutes as he mulled it over in his head. Then, he let out a long sigh and reluctantly conceded. "Fine..." He attention slowly drifted towards their still-sleeping patient. "But you owe me. Nobody gets to fake being dead on my watch and get away with it."

* * *

 **December 7th, 8:50am PST, 2001  
Suburbia, Smith-Sanchez Family Household  
Earth, Dimension C-711**

* * *

It was just another ordinary winter morning, or so she thought. Elizabeth Sanchez had just grabbed her car keys and was heading out the front door of her house when she saw the strange sight ahead - four tall figures in strange official looking uniforms were pushing a wheeled hospital bed and various machines up her freshly snow-plowed driveway. All she could do was stare dumbly at first; all of them had spiky powder blue hair. One was carrying a small boy which looked like her son.

And all of them looked like her father.

"Dad...?" It was all she could manage to say through her bewilderment.

As Surgeon Rick looked back at her, there was no joy in his expression; Lizabeth had suffered a chaotic unsettled childhood because of him. Between trying to hold down a job in a surgical ward, riding through waves of grief and depression after losing his wife during childbirth, and avoiding it entirely by falling into a habit of abusing prescription drugs to mute his pain, he believed he had failed at being a proper father to her. There had been many happy moments along the way, but they just couldn't erase the fact that he'd spent a large portion of her childhood high on whatever cocktail of drugs he could obtain at the time, most of them stolen from the pharmacy at the hospital he'd worked at.

It wasn't until Lizabeth was ten years old that she knew her father's addiction was toxic and destructive. Although she had tried to help him, it had too strong of a hold on his mind and she was too young and immature to deal with it properly. To make matters worse, Surgeon Rick was a high-functioning user and an alcoholic; despite either being drunk or completely high off his face, he could still carry on as if he was clean and he was in denial about the whole thing.

Lizabeth and her father co-existed in this same precarious state for years and still somehow managed to operate as a family. They'd even survived through his accidental overdoses and emergency hospital visits well into her seventeenth year of life.

Then everything changed on prom night when she met Jerry Smith.

Lizabeth discovered she was pregnant soon after and her life priorities shifted; suddenly her father was a villain that needed to be fixed or forgotten. After spending so many years trying to help him and ultimately failing, she chose the latter.

Being rejected by his own daughter sent Surgeon Rick into a chaotic downward spiral; he was so distraught by his mistakes that he tried to kill himself. He nearly succeeded in it as well, but was stolen from his reality in his final moments and was picked up by the Citadel of Ricks.

Lizabeth did not know this though; she only saw a selfish asshole who had abandoned her in her most desperate time of need. When he did not come back to see his firstborn grandchild, her resentment of him became even deeper.

One year passed and then another. Morty was born. Although Surgeon Rick had managed to shed most of his drug addiction problem through rehabilitation programs at the Citadel, the damage had already been done. When he tried to reconnect with his daughter and get to know his grandchildren, he was met with hostility; their long history had created a dangerous tension and the battle lines had been drawn. Conversations turned into arguments and attempts at reparation turned into accusations of falseness; it was easy for Lizabeth to call her father out on 'trying to change' when she only saw him lapsing back into old habits over the course of her life.

Trying to make it up felt like an impossibility, so Surgeon Rick resorted to supporting her in the only way he knew how – by throwing money at the problem. Lizabeth was all too happy to take it as well, especially when she was accepted into university.

She was perceived as greedy, self-centered and egotistical. He was perceived as inattentive, selfish, and it was easy to pick on him for his drug addiction because it wasn't a lie. It became so off-putting and hurtful that he stopped visiting again and resorted to leaving random wads of cash in care packages on her doorstep.

Returning to her was something that terrified him, and Surgeon Rick had put it off by making excuses. He'd played out this exact scenario many times in his head and ultimately avoided it. Yet against all better judgment, here he was. For Morty's sake. For Rick's sake. For his own, and for Lizabeth's.

Years and years of mistakes and negative sentiment had led to this moment. Father and daughter just stared at each other in the tense silence, neither side willing to make the first move and risk screwing up again. Both sides wanted to bury the hatchet but neither knew how to start the conversation.

Meanwhile, Ricktus observed the standoff, but he was impatient and wanted to move things along. "Come on, we have shit to do and nobody wants to be outside in this kind of weather."

The comment brought the surgeon back to reality and he covered for himself with a wide lopsided grin; it was much easier to hide behind a smile. "Y-yeah yeah, I'm on it!" He replied with far too much enthusiasm, internally cringing at how disgustingly fake he sounded. "Hey, sweetie. I know this is gonna be a big ask, but can we crash here for a while? Work has gotten hectic and I've had to take some home with me... i-is that OK?"

"Oh, dad..." The blonde haired female managed to whisper as she clutched her hands together so tightly that her knuckles turned white; she was trying to contain her own set of emotions, but had already become teary-eyed. "...you can stay for as long as you want."

Over the next twenty minutes, Rick's hospital bed and monitoring equipment were set up in the middle of the garage. Once that was done, both the surgeon and the doctor got back to work under the watchful eye of the Guard Ricks assigned to them; one of them hooked up a new bag of intravenous fluid and administered medication, while the other recorded vitals and paced around the bed to double check that everything looked normal.

Meanwhile, Lizabeth stood back and watched on; it had been too long since she had seen her father so functional and productive and it filled her with hope. Although she was familiar with the concept of the multiverse and the fact that other versions of him existed, seeing the different variants around him still managed to confuse her.

"So, dad," it was forced, but she did her best to not sound accusative. "Something big must have happened to bring you back here with... all of this."

"You don't know the half of it, sweetie." Surgeon Rick responded. "Look, I'll give you a proper rundown later, but all you need to know right now is that this guy is high profile and we need to take care of him until he's well enough to be discharged. You... think you'd be able to help us out?"

Lizabeth was completely taken aback; the fact that her father was even there and talking to her at all was a feat in itself, but now he was asking for her help as well. "Of course," she managed to get out, "I'll do whatever I can."

"Great." Surgeon Rick grabbed Morty from one of the Guard Ricks and immediately thrust him into her arms. "You can start with this guy. He's been through a bunch of shit and needs stability. Y-you think you could be his mom for a while?"

Lizabeth happily took him and cradled him in her arms. "What happened to his real mother?"

"She died." The surgeon replied matter-of-factly. "That Morty is an orphan and his Rick is the only family member he has left."

"Oh my god..." The blonde haired female found herself fighting back fresh tears as they filled her eyes, the comment tugging at her heart strings; she knew what it was like to lose her own mother. "I'll do anything I can."

Morty did not fuss as he was handed over to the new person and stared up at her face; it had been too long since he had seen his mother and this alternative version was more than adequate. As he cuddled into her chest, the tiniest utterance of a whimper came out of his mouth, and then a word that had been buried deep in his young mind for a long time. "M-mm... m-mom..."

Ricktus looked up from what he had been doing. "Where did that come from? I didn't know you could say that. You're just full of surprises, Morty."

* * *

Rick's sense of awareness was hazy at best; he was caught between the realm of wakefulness and dreams and no matter what he did, he just couldn't get his body to move for him.

He'd spent days like in this same blurry state but didn't know it as he couldn't keep track of time. During his fleeting moments of consciousness, he heard a constant rhythmic beeping somewhere off to the right side of him. He was also aware of a dull ache in the pit of his stomach and under his ribcage, but the painkillers and sedatives he'd been dosed up on made it more than tolerable.

Sometimes he heard others dabbling in the immediate space surrounding him, while at other times they stopped to hover nearby. He could never quite work out what they were doing or what they were saying, though; their voices were muffled like his ears had been smothered by cotton wool.

His active mind was bored with the lack of stimulation and it conjured up the strangest dreams; sometimes they were so vivid that they blurred the lines of reality itself. When it ran out of dreams, it began drawing from his memory.

Right from the start, Rick Sanchez knew he was going to be different. He was born to a loveless couple who were alcoholics and also inattentive parents. He could tell the difference between a suspension, a solution, and a colloid long before he could read or write, yet his mother was never satisfied with his intelligence and always demanded more of him. His childhood was unhappy but uneventful; he merely existed from day to day and learned mostly on his own. He could also remember his first taste of alcohol – it was cheap bourbon from his father's liquor cabinet.

For as long as he lived, he would never forget the beating he received for stealing it.

Because of his high IQ, he hated school; he saw it as an organized idiot farm and he refused to participate in it. He remembered being completely opposed to the higher education system when he tried to complete a college degree in physics, and being so disgruntled with people trying to steal his knowledge that he built himself a spaceship and abandoned planet Earth entirely; it had nothing that could hold his interest when the universe beyond it was calling his name.

It was easy to escape his old life; his parents were shit and so was the entire human race.

He found freedom in the near-limitless vacuum of space, and being among the stars gave him the silence he needed to think and innovate. He soon discovered life on other planets and became jaded with them as well; wherever there was life, there were dumb creatures with selfish natures, just like humans. He made no friends and turned into a lone intergalactic roamer.

However, Rick's own human biology would start to work against him - he was a social creature at heart and being alone did not suit him no matter how much he tried to deny it. He was also young, reckless, and had the libido of a teenage boy. His space adventures soon turned into elaborate fun ways to gamble, to get drunk or laid, or even to get high, and he found himself in the intergalactic gun trafficking trade as a means of paying for his debaucherous lifestyle.

It was through sheer random circumstance that he came across Bird World; the planet had ordered an urgent shipment of guns from his boss because it was being invaded, and Rick had been assigned to send the order. It was here that he had his first run-in with the Galactic Federation; what was meant to be a simple drop-off mission turned into an all-out skirmish and the young scientist was caught in the middle of the fray. The bureaucrats' domineering attitude enraged him so much that he fought back against them; he believed the galaxy belonged to nobody and it was bad for the business if Bird World fell to their tyrannical regime.

During the firefight, Rick would save his first lifelong friend – a young feathered male with an unpronounceable name. He decided to call him 'Birdperson' and the name had stuck ever since. However, Rick had been shot in the chest during the fight and was nursed back to health by the treetop community; they weren't about to let their strange new flightless ally die after he'd stood up for them.

His time among the bird people left an impression on him – these were the first selfless lifeforms he had ever met. Deeming them worthy of his time and protection, Rick abandoned his gun shipment racket and taught the population how to manufacture firearms directly for themselves. With the help of his inventions and leadership qualities, the Galactic Federation and its residual forces were successfully pushed off the planet for good.

This move angered his boss; once he got word that one of his best gun runners had turned rogue, an assassination attempt was made. It was unsuccessful though – the bird people would make sure of that. Their strange little human ally had almost single-handedly liberated them and they would never forget it.

Rick's actions did not go unnoticed. His name would soon be known throughout the galaxy and the resistance movement arrived to meet with the one who had given Bird World their freedom. Among their ranks were the Squanches of Planet Squanch and Squanchy; an extroverted feline-like creature who only became friends with Rick initially because he wanted to learn how his mind worked and use it to his advantage. However, even he found himself liking the human before too long; his brash honest nature was refreshing.

A trade was made and protection was granted to Bird World on the condition that they would help join the larger fight against the Federation. This came with another perk – the resistance movement had superior spaceship technology, which meant they could easily fly throughout the galaxy.

The risky and dangerous jobs were always Rick's favorite, and so he elected to start gathering intel from the species directly under the threat of invasion. With Birdperson and Squanchy at his side, he started a fake band called 'The Flesh Curtains' to use as a cover and touring multiple planets became his life for years afterwards. Although the band was legitimately successful, fame and the life of a rock-star never truly suited him; even though Rick had limitless access to as much drugs and sex as he could ever want, he found himself lonely for human company and longing to return to planet Earth to find it.

Just as he was arranging a replacement guitarist on Glapflap's third moon, he was caught up in the whirlwind of one of the most significant fights yet: The Battle of Blood Ridge. It was also one of the bloodiest fights he'd ever been in before or since; countless casualties were recorded on both sides. He remembered the towering piles of bodies, the overpowering stench of death, the funeral pyres that burned for days, and the ashes that littered the sky like snow. The carnage was so deeply ingrained into his mind that he'd have nightmares about it for the rest of his life.

He was done with conflict and needed to escape, but returning home was the start of the worst mistakes he'd ever make.

Prowling seedy bars on planet Earth had always been an easy way to meet people. After a few random flings with both men and ladies alike, Rick found Diane. Despite his opinions on love, he was gullible and quickly fell head over heels for her. One thing led to another, and then a night of heated passion without protection led to the conception of a child.

Initially, he was overjoyed at the thought of becoming a father. However, disappointment sank in almost as soon as his daughter was born; she was beautiful and healthy, but he would have preferred a son. Having her around meant also living the same mundane domestic lifestyle he had grown up in, and he resented her for weighing him down. He knew it wasn't her fault and he hated himself for feeling that way about her, but there it was all the same.

He hated commitment, he hated being confined, and despite his best efforts to stay grounded, he abandoned the daughter he should have been there for to resume the fight against the Federation.

His life became a game of back and forth; he was either running away from bureaucrats to his family or vice versa. He'd turn up on Diane's doorstep at all random hours of the day or night, and months would often pass before she'd see him again. Sometimes he would come home with black eyes, bruises, or cracked ribs from bar fights, and sometimes he'd even show up with gunshot wounds from skirmishes.

Beth grew up with sporadic memories of her father. Although her mother was primarily the one who had raised her, Rick was her favorite. Rick was also her 'good guy' – he never disciplined her and would take her out for ice-cream whenever he visited. She could do no wrong in her father's eyes.

Although Rick and Diane had never officially broken up, Diane saw it fit to seek out a new man in his absence – a doctor from the rich part of town. When Rick discovered the affair, he set fire to the man's car. Divorce papers were thrust in his face along with the order to leave and never return. In spite of the truth, Rick allowed Beth to think that he had left them; he didn't want her blaming her mother for his absence.

It was easier to be angry with someone who wasn't there.

Then one day, many years later, Rick got the phone call from his worst nightmare - Diane had become sick with terminal cancer and Beth was seventeen and pregnant. It was like a massive slap to the face and Rick abandoned his duties, his friends, and the fight against the Federation to take care of the new family. After Beth and Jerry were married in a hasty court office wedding, he set them up with their first home and stuck around to make sure they were well provided for.

When his first grandchild arrived, Rick felt guilty for being absent from his daughter's life and swore things would be different. Holding Summer in his arms for the first time was like a grounding force; the value of the universe itself felt like it was coalesced into six squirming pounds of life and in that instant, his existence didn't seem so hollow and pointless any more.

It was more worthy of his protection and time than Bird World had been.

A couple of years passed and Rick hung around in the background to take care of his growing family. Beth became pregnant a second time and when Morty was born, everything changed again. One of his most vivid memories was the ability to soothe the baby boy no matter what; he always stopped crying when Grandpa Rick was holding him in his arms.

Morty loved him right from the start and Rick found it easy to love him back; he was hooked, hook, line, and sinker. The generational gap no longer mattered - he'd never had a son, but now he had a grandson. As far as he was concerned, life was perfect. He could have done without Jerry being in the picture, but he had merit for being a more attentive father than he ever was, and having two grandkids around was great.

And just like that, it was all gone in a flash of blinding white fire and shattered glass; the Galactic Federation had taken everything away from him just because he dared to stand up against them. They'd robbed him of his youth and his innocence, and now they'd robbed him of his family and his home planet.

Every fiber of his being called for retribution, and although he vaguely remembered destroying them by blowing them up, the memory felt out of place somehow.

As the images continued to flow through his mind, he wondered if this was what it was like to die; his entire life was literally flashing before his eyes. Before he could entertain the thought any further, he could taste the harshness of citric acid in his throat and the voices around him started to become more clear.

"Administering counteractive surfactant to the oxygen supply," a stoic voice stated. "Add 10CCs of the reversal drug I gave you to his IV line. It's time to wake the bastard up."

"Got it," a female quickly replied; her voice was so familiar that he would never forget it. "Done."

Rick felt the heavy fog being lifted as he came to once again, but the pain became more pronounced and throbbing. He let out a pathetic groan and tried to move his limbs; his legs were cramped and stiff like they hadn't been used in years.

"Is that movement voluntary?"

"Yes, absolutely," the clinical voice returned. "This is exactly what you want to see."

Rick began to take inventory of his body. He could still feel and wiggle his toes – check. He still had them. Further inspection revealed he could move both arms too.

"Hey," a quiet gravelly voice came from somewhere overhead, unmistakably belonging to a Rick. "Welcome back. Can you understand me?"

"It might be better to stand back and let him wake up some more," the female suggested. "If he's anything like my dad, he'll want his own personal space."

Rick cracked his eyes open to the sight of florescent lights on the ceiling. He spent a moment focusing on them, and then he was aware of himself and his surroundings; he was wearing an oxygen mask, there were multiple tubes hooked up to him, and he appeared to be laid out on a bed in his own garage for some reason.

At least he was warm.

A quick look around the room stopped short as his eyes fell on her. Beth looked exactly as he remembered, though some small details were off - her hair was tied back and she was wearing a set of clinical scrubs that he'd never seen before. He didn't understand it; his daughter was supposed to be dead. He'd seen her unconscious in the car along with Summer mere seconds before the vitrification beam had hit planet Earth.

"H-h... hey, sweetie," he weakly forced out. "W-why... why are you here?"

Lizabeth glanced back at the doctor. "That sounds like cognitive thought to me. He has a stutter, but that's normal, isn't it?"

Ricktus nodded in approval. "Yes. Keep observing the patient and tell me what you see. You'll learn quite a lot out of this if you pay attention."

"I don't get it... is this the next place? Y-you died... didn't you?" Rick managed to say next, immediately recoiling at how pathetic and confused he sounded. "Where am I?"

The blonde haired female stood at his bedside and sighed; she'd already been briefed about this Rick's story and reality but didn't know how to explain his current situation to him. "You're in my garage, dad... uh, Rick? What am I supposed to call you?"

"I-I watched you die," remembering it felt like a like a knife to the core and his eyes became heavy with unshed tears. "Both y-you and Summer did, I saw it happen... I-I tried to save you, b-but the car door wouldn't budge. I tried, Beth, I really did... I-I'm sorry I couldn't save you..."

Ricktus stood on the other side of the bed. "Can you tell me your name?"

"I-it's Rick," Rick grumpily stuttered, finding himself irritated by such a dumb obvious question. "W-what's yours?"

"That shit never gets old, does it?" Ricktus began shining a flashlight in his eyes. "Fine, wise-ass. What's your dimension number?"

"I-I saved Morty," Rick ignored him and returned his attention to Lizabeth. "I took him out in the sun just like you wanted." His brows furrowed in a deep scowl and he snapped his eyes shut, objecting to the brightness. "You are dead, aren't you? A-am I?"

"No, but you gave it your best shot." Lizabeth smiled back at him. "You died twice on the operating table, apparently. We're just checking you over for signs of cerebral hypoxia now. Is that OK?"

As the fog continued to lift from his mind, the female's explanation made more sense. Suddenly, the rest came flooding back to him; the events that led to him being on the ship in Dimension Q-316, the plan to blow it up, saving the alternate version of himself from being shot, and then what little followed after it.

"O-oh god..." He swatted the tears away with a hand, angry at himself for allowing such an emotion to crack through his defenses in front of other people. "...you... y-you cheated me out of my own death?" As he reasoned through the two pieces of conflicting information, he realized that he was still alive and part of him loathed the fact.

Lizabeth didn't know what to say and stepped back to give him space. "This seems more like confusion than brain damage."

"I think you could be right." Ricktus stood over his patient and forcefully pried his eyes open to shine the flashlight in them again. "Pupil dilation looks normal. We'll run an MRI and a full cognitive profile test later just to cover our asses. The Council will want them for their records."

"Where... w-where's Morty?" Rick shakily smacked the hands away and pulled off his oxygen mask to wipe the excess surfactant powder off his face. "Is he still with Birdperson, o-or what?" After moving his elbows either side of him, he made an attempt at sitting up. He was met with immediate resistance; two firm yet gentle fingers prodded him in the sternum. He was so weak that he was easily pushed back down onto the bed behind him.

"I strongly suggest not doing that," Ricktus grumpily instructed. "You have internal and external stitches, and you really don't want to tear them."

"Your Morty is doing fine," Lizabeth answered in the attempt to reassure him. "Before we woke you up, he was playing in the living room with my own son and Summer. Jerry is probably about to feed them, it's nearly lunch time."

"Jerry? What? Where am I exactly, and h-h... h-how long have I been here?" Rick slowly shook his head as he tried to make sense of his surroundings; the counteractive drugs obviously still needed more time to work. "Why am I here?"

"I'm still trying to understand exactly why they picked my garage, but you're here because you've sustained a rather nasty injury to the abdomen and you needed surgery and a liver transplant." Lizabeth calmly explained. "That was about five days ago. You've also been poisoned and you'll spend a few more days with us until it fully washes out of your system, but it looks like you'll make a full recovery."

"F-five DAYS!?" Rick loudly yelped. "N-no, no, no, I-I gotta get outta here right now!" He made a much more aggressive attempt at sitting up.

"Whoa, take it easy!" Ricktus pinned him down a second time. "Where do you think you're going in such a hurry? Your Morty's being taken care of and there's nothing you need to do except lie there and relax while we do everything for you."

"Should I sedate him?" Lizabeth wondered.

"Well, you could, but we literally just woke him back up. He needs know everything that's happened since he's been out." Ricktus withdrew his hand once he was satisfied that Rick had settled again. "Why don't you busy yourself by looking at the medical records and see what needs updating? He and I need to talk."

With considerable effort, Rick bent up one of his legs and began trying to work the stiffness out of it. "I-if this is going to turn into the kind of bullshit I think i-it is... then I don't want to talk."

"You've barely been awake five minutes and you're already being obnoxious. I hope this isn't a taste of things to come." The doctor let out a loud irritated sigh. "First things first, you need to tell us if you feel nauseous. If you were to throw up now, you could rip the internal stitches in your stomach. Same thing goes for the pain - don't feel like you have act like a tough guy and rough it out. So... how are you feeling?"

"L-like... like I don't wanna be here?" Although his voice was weak, Rick still managed to sound indignant. "O-or like a really, really, healthy person. That means I can leave, right?"

Ricktus rolled his eyes. "You may also feel a burning sensation down your back like you have kidney stones. We, uh, discovered what was wrong with you and the medicine is making your body work overtime."

"Oh yeah?" Rick was vaguely curious. "It wasn't radiation poisoning was it? B-because I told you so."

"Well, YOU thought it was nothing and you were wrong too, so there you go." Ricktus's tone was scolding. "As I've told you before, when I first saw you through the interdimensional goggles, both you and your Morty looked like you were sick and dying. I injected you with the curative serum developed from my hive of hybrid insects and you were fine for a while, but you've... had a bad reaction to it. Your body was supposed to eliminate the spent byproduct and never did. Instead, it accumulated in your body, mostly in your liver and bone marrow. Your liver was dying anyway, but this merely finished it off faster." He turned his head away to hide the look of guilt. "It... it explains everything. The nausea, the gradual rate of failure, and the reason why your immune system and bloodwork was so terrible."

"So... y-you're saying I would have been perfectly fine, but you made me sick so you could fix it?" Rick felt smug. "That's pretty... f-fucked up if you ask me."

"Well no, not really, your liver would have died on its own eventually. But fine, the reason you're here is my fault, so go ahead and gloat about it. I deserve that much." The doctor grumpily returned. "It should have been obvious, but I was so hung up on discovering something new and interesting that I overlooked what was in front of me." A frustrated noise escaped him. "It was too simple to be liver failure on its own, because a first year medical student could have picked that. We would have found out what was wrong eventually, but you decided to get shot first, didn't you? The operation basically killed two birds with one stone."

"S-so... I'm going to live?" The scientist sounded genuinely disappointed.

"Yes," came the immediate reply. "You should consider yourself lucky, B-526. Maybe you really are too stubborn to die."

Rick was silent as he thought through everything; it all made sense except for one thing. "M-Mm... Morty was fine the whole time, wasn't he?"

"Yes. We had him checked over, but he remained asymptomatic because his body got rid of the byproduct like it was supposed to." As Ricktus stood over the other, he folded his arms across his chest and his tone became condescending. "He's young and healthy, and doesn't drink like he's trying to forget his problems. Which brings me to my next point-"

"Fuck you," Rick hissed back at him, "I-I do what I want."

"Not any more, you don't." Ricktus countered. "You're a liver transplant recipient now. The Council funded your operation, which means they're not going to issue you with another one, which means you're going to have to lay off the alcohol on a permanent basis."

"Yeah, right... a-as if that's gonna..." Rick muttered. He tried to add more to his statement but couldn't; the rest of his speech devolved into indecipherable nonsense.

"You're already on drugs to help you with the withdrawal symptoms, but you're going to have to..." The doctor trailed off. "Ah shit, what happened? Talk to me."

Rick's next response was a soft hum; he was dreamily content and felt like his head was swimming. It was all he could manage as he drifted off back to sleep.

"What the..." Ricktus glared up at Lizabeth. "What did you do?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, you told me to update his medical records." Lizabeth frowned as she pulled the syringe out of the IV cannula she had been holding. "I gave him more morphine because he was due for it. Did you not want me to?"

"Yeah, I deserve that. Carry on." Ricktus settled back in his chair and busied himself with other work. The conversation with Rick would have to continue later; there was still much to discuss.

* * *

When Rick woke up again, he began to count the lights on the ceiling of the garage; it was a sight he figured he'd have to get used to if he wasn't allowed to sit up. When he heard the sound of children's laughter echoing up the hallway, he was intrigued enough to keep listening; one of the high-pitched screams was recognizable enough to be Morty's. It was followed by another identical in pitch, and another that sounded like it belonged to a young girl. It was only Jerry's scolding that made it stop again, and all was silent. It was soon broken by another loud giggle, a shriek, and then it began anew; the chorus of screams had become a fun game.

"What the hell are they doing?" He wondered as he glared up at the doctor, who was seated in a chair beside him and reading a book. Rick read the cover title and had to snort with amusement – 'Optimizing Quality in Electronics' – he was obviously filling the gaps in his knowledge base.

Ricktus did not look up. "They're screwing around, just like children are supposed to. I would have thought that much was obvious."

"Hey, you know what? Fuck you." Rick hissed back. "Go make yourself useful and get Morty for me, I-I wanna see him."

"Fine, but answer one question for me first... why did you save me back on the ship? You could have left me there, but you didn't. Whether I live or die has no bearing on your existence. In fact, you would have been better off if our paths never crossed at all." The doctor's expression was unreadable as he peered over the spine of his book. "I want to understand why you do things. You've never made sense to me."

"Phh, a-all this time and you're still asking that?" Rick grumped back. "I keep telling you, I do what I want, and when I don't like something, I change it. I didn't like what was happening, s-so... fill in the blanks." He shrugged. "You're supposed to be me, but you're like a shitty version of me because you've allowed yourself to become complacent along the way. Y-you can do better any time you feel like it... all you need to do is stop cowering and living vicariously through others."

"That didn't answer anything."

"Yeah it did. Do I have to spell it out for you? I thought you were smarter than that!" Rick raised his voice. "You get to live another day and correct your stupidity, so take it and run. What are you still doing here? I bet someone ordered you to watch me, right?"

Ricktus grunted with discontentment, but did not say anything.

"Yeah, I thought so," Rick was a little smug over having guessed correctly, even though it was predictable. "Was it one of those Council morons? Get your head out of their asses already!"

Ricktus was hesitant now; he could have easily engaged the scientist on what he thought about the topic, especially after everything that had happened during the Council hearing, but there was still much he needed to say. "I owe you for what you've done, you know. Twice, actually. You saved my ass and it's my fault for making you sick, so if there's anything you ever need-"

"NO. No more favors." Rick firmly cut him off. "That turned out SO well the last time I took you idiots up on your offer. What happened with that, anyway? A-am I gonna be on trial for murder or some shit?"

"You were cleared of any wrongdoing almost as quickly as it came up." The answer was immediate. "You were right – all evidence pointed to an accidental death. At most, you were only there after the fact."

"Y-yeah, I told you so!" Rick harshly retorted. "Maybe next time you'll actually listen to me, you arrogant fuck." He took a quick look around the room. "Hey, I've seen you and the other version of Beth hanging around, but not that C-711 guy. Where is he?"

Ricktus silently slid off his chair and left the garage.

"Well? Whose dimension is this, anyway?" Rick called out to him. "Seems a little shady to be working out of someone's garage, d-don't you think?!"

He didn't get an answer.

Instead, the doctor returned with Morty and deposited him at Rick's left side, away from all his wires and tubing. He picked up the book he had been reading and sat back in his chair to supervise; he wanted to give Rick what he'd asked for, but he also knew Morty was young and had grabby little hands that could interfere.

Morty was happy to be carried around initially, but seeing Rick again changed his entire demeanor; even though he didn't smell like he was supposed to, the little boy seemed to instinctively know who he was. His first response was a loud whimper, and then he was so overcome with emotion that he burst into tears, clinging onto him for dear life. It was the only way he could tell him how much he had missed him, and let him know that being away from him for so long was a traumatic experience.

"Holy shit," Rick brushed his hand through Morty's hair in the attempt to soothe him. "What the hell happened to YOU while I was away...?"

"Think about this from his perspective," Ricktus explained over the top of the racket. "In a short amount of time, he's moved from his home to a weird place in the trees, to my ship, then back to the hippie bird tree house, then to the Council of Ricks, and finally, to here. It's too much to ask of anyone, let alone a small child. He doesn't know what's happening at all, and what's worse, he's had to make the last part of the journey without you."

"Yeah, fair enough." Rick had to concede to that one. "Fucking hell, Morty... s-shut up, would ya? I'm here now... a-and I'm not going anywhere if I can help it." His left arm moved around the little boy and hugged him into his side.

Even though Morty practically buried his face into his his grandfather's flank, he was gentle; he seemed to understand that Rick was hurt and didn't want to make it worse. After he'd settled down again, he snuggled into him and archived his warmth and new scent into memory.

"See, that's better. Good job, little buddy." Rick ruffled a hand through his hair, and for a moment he envied the boy's innocence; his was long dead.

"Good luck trying to get rid of him after this," the doctor dryly mused. "He's not going to let you out of his sight."

"Yeah, guess whose fault that is. If you screwed my grandson up worse than he already was, I'm holding you accountable." Rick coldly spat back. "You still haven't answered my other question. Where is that C-711 guy? He's supposed to be here, isn't he? I-is this his garage or yours?"

"It's his," Ricktus looked away, seeming conflicted with what he was about to say next. "I don't really know how to tell you this, but," he set his book aside and acted out his best impression of concern. "I'd tell you to sit down first, but, well..."

"Just spit it out, moron!"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, you're really going there, aren't you?" Lizabeth looked up from what she was doing and the look of disgust on her face was obvious. "Look, it's your choice, but I don't want any part in it. You're as bad as him, honestly!" She shook her head as she stepped out of the room.

Rick's eyes suspiciously tracked her every move until she was gone. "W-what the hell is she talking about?"

"Rick... there's something you need to know about C-711," Ricktus turned his head away. "There's been some trouble, and, well... he's dead."

Rick was completely silent for a moment, visibly shaken by the news; he had barely known the other Rick, but couldn't stand the thought of losing another friend.

"...s-seriously?"


	30. Rickmotional Baggage

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty is an [Adult Swim] cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is unofficial fanfiction. Please support the official release.

 **NOTE:** This was written during a particularly rough period, but it's finally done. It fits within the rating, but this chapter contains several mentions of drug use and homophobic themes. Please also note that I haven't abandoned this work and fully intend to see it out until completion (the end is nigh!). I'm still active and working on it when I have the time. Check out my Tumblr (RickandMortyByKat) for details and updates (I also draw silly pictures of the characters from this story). You can also ask me questions there as I've turned on the Anonymous feature.

Thank you all so much for your time, support, comments, patience, and eagerness to see this continue. It's really quite amazing to see how much enthusiasm you have over this weird thing. I'll see it to the end, even if it takes me much longer than I expected.  
\- K

* * *

 _Sometimes, something so broken can never be fixed  
_ _So we saved a few things that were spared  
_ _And we brought it to the ground  
_ _Cause you always build it better the second time around_

 _\- Aron Wright - Build it Better  
_

* * *

 **Chapter 30 – Rickmotional Baggage**

 **December 7th,** **5:58pm PST, 2001  
** **Suburbia, Smith-Sanchez Family Household  
** **Earth, Dimension C-711**

* * *

"Yes, seriously... he's dead." Ricktus put almost too much effort into making himself sound genuine. "It's a shame because he was a useful employee. I'm going to have a hard time finding a replacement."

Rick stared upwards, his expression blank; all he felt was the weight of defeat bearing down on him. Rick C-711 had been the only version of himself that he actually tolerated and vaguely liked, and knowing he was gone meant that he had no reason to hang around anymore. Just as he opened his mouth to ask for details, he heard scratchy laughter coming from up the hallway beyond the garage door.

"Oh my god, Dad! It's not funny!"

"You're right, kid... it's fuckin' hilarious!" The reply was followed by a loud snicker. "I don't care who you are, that is some GOOD comedy shit right there. You'd have to be dead inside not to find it at least slightly entertaining!"

"Dad! Go in there and say something before you make it any worse!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it. Don't bust my balls, sweetie. Sheesh!" Surgeon Rick suddenly poked his head around the doorway with a wide mocking grin plastered on his face. "Heeeey, what's up, fucker?! I can't believe you actually believed that son of a bitch. What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Rick could feel his blood boiling but kept his eyes locked on the ceiling, certain that if he looked in any other direction, he would have utterly lost it.

"Holy fuck, look how pissed he is!" Surgeon Rick thrust a pointed finger in Rick's direction and broke into another round of raucous laughter, unable to contain himself. "A-are you SURE you don't have brain damage, bro?!"

Ricktus rolled his eyes, but allowed his ex-assistant to continue. Behind him, he could hear the Guard Ricks chuckling among themselves; while he was not overly amused by the prank himself, he'd always known 'lesser' Ricks like them to laugh at the stupidest things.

"Yeah, see how THAT feels? Suck it, bitch!" Surgeon Rick taunted his charge as he came into the room and stood at his side, his tone half-mocking, half-serious. "That's what you get for making people think you were dead, dude... that's what you get." He poked him in the shoulder just hard enough to express his disapproval. "Bet you won't be trying it again any time soon, huh?"

Rick's power of will was ironclad, yet he still had to fight back the fresh tears threatening to betray him. He already knew what it was like to lose friends and family; he'd easily lost more of them than anyone else in the room. He was so charged up that his left hand was shaking as he moved it off Morty and pointed at the door. "I don't have to justify my actions to you... g-get OUT!"

"Oh shit..." Surgeon Rick realized what he'd done and immediately regretted it. "Are you seriously that upset? I mean, it's good to know you finally got over being abducted and stopped hating us, but you're crying about it? Like, for real?"

"N-NO!" Rick bit back so defensively that the lie was obvious.

"Well, that certainly backfired on you, didn't it?" Ricktus sounded slightly condescending. "What kind of reaction were you expecting, C-711?"

"Shit, I dunno, b-but," Surgeon Rick hastily stumbled for an answer, "I didn't mean it like that. I guess I was hoping he'd either get a little pissed or laugh it off?" He paused awkwardly. "Wait a sec... if you didn't approve, then why'd YOU go along with it?"

"I'm not your boss any more," Ricktus answered truthfully. "Maybe I wanted to see what would happen. Maybe I let you because I'm still trying to get back on your good side. Maybe it's because I have no real authorization to stop you. Maybe it's all of the above. Pick one and decide for yourself."

"So y-you're BOTH in on it?!" Rick growled at them. "G-go away and leave me alone!"

"See, this is why I work better under upper management. I need someone to talk me outta doing dumb shit like this." Surgeon Rick admitted with a deep scowl. "Either way, have we learned that pretending to be dead wasn't cool? Because I wanna make sure we're all clear on that part."

"What?! That's not even how it went down, a-and I already told you it wasn't my fault, you dipshit!" Times like this made Rick want to drown his feelings in alcohol and forget they existed; he couldn't stand being so open and vulnerable. "I don't wanna see you again, so unless you have a bottle of whiskey or vodka to give me, then you can get out!"

"Uhh," the surgeon glanced at the others in the room, then back at his patient. "Did anybody brief you on that? You can't-"

"No?! Then that makes you useless to me." Rick abruptly cut him off, uninterested in anything else he had to say. With as much strength as he could muster, he yelled, "All of you can GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

All the other Ricks scattered out of the garage like their life depended on it; a direct order from a gold-rank was not something to argue with. However, Rick was unaware of his new status and was confused to have that much of an effect on them. Almost as quickly, he decided he didn't care and protectively moved his arm back around Morty.

"Sorry about that, buddy," he told him as he calmed down again, content that they were alone. "But it must be nice to know you're the only one around here who doesn't suck."

* * *

Sitting down to dinner as a family should have been an uneventful occurrence but it wasn't; Jerry was openly glaring at the 'unwelcome' arrival from the moment he arrived at the table. Summer was too shy to engage him in conversation and avoided eye contact, while Lizabeth did her best to pretend that the outstanding hostilities didn't exist as she placed her son in his high chair and began feeding him.

Most of the meal was eaten in tense silence, but Jerry's burning gaze never left him. Finally, Surgeon Rick got fed up with it and swallowed the mouthful of food he had been chewing on. "Dude, are you checkin' me out? I know I'm hot, but damn, I didn't know you swing that way." The slightest hint of a smirk pulled at the edges of his mouth. "I hope you're prepared to have that kind of conversation with my daughter."

"Beth, honey... what is HE doing here?" Jerry spat each word like venom.

"HE has a name, you know." Lizabeth bottled up her frustration and didn't look up.

"Hey, don't worry about it, sweetie. He just wants to keep it in the family." Surgeon Rick quipped, then turned back to face Jerry. "Yo, there's no need to take your anger out on me if you feel that way, brother... it's not my fault. There's nothing wrong with you, but you gotta give yourself time to come to terms with it, OK? Trust me on that."

"Dad, please... not now!" Lizabeth verbally cuffed him, then reluctantly gave in and started trying to mediate. "Jerry, I was the one who invited him in. I thought it might be nice to feed him too, because it's basic common decency to look after your guests."

"He's no guest, Beth... and I thought we agreed never to let him back in our house." Jerry sounded stern. "After everything he's done to you-"

"OUR house? Who do you think paid for it, dumbass!?" Lizabeth's anger spiked in an instant. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had a proper conversation with my father? He actually picked up the phone when I rang him this time, and now he's here and talking to me! Do you understand how significant that is? Things have changed this time, you don't know-"

"Oh, how many times have we heard THAT one before?!" Jerry raised his voice over the top of hers and met her anger with his own. "Why do you keep trying to make peace with the ONE person who nearly destroyed you?! You shouldn't be letting him back into your life!"

"Am I supposed to hate my father forever, Jerry!? He's the ONLY parent I have left!"

"Having no parents at ALL has got to be better than abusive ones!"

"That's easy for you to say when you had the perfect upbringing and NEVER HAD TO DEAL WITH IT!"

"Why is this about me?! You're the one who let him in without consulting me. You need to talk to me about THESE THINGS FIRST, BETH!"

Somewhere in the middle of the commotion, both Summer and Morty had started crying.

"Whoa... settle down, guys." Surgeon Rick's eyes shifted back and forth between the two. "Listen to what you're doin' to your kids, i-it's not good to fight in front of them like that."

Jerry turned on him like a rabid wild animal. "Don't YOU DARE high-road me, Rick! I don't know why you're here or what you're playing at, but I'm NOT going to let you hurt my family again!"

"Wait... 'your' family?" He hadn't particularly wanted to join in, but Jerry had struck a nerve and his good humor disintegrated. "I have more biological relations here than you, so you do the math. Actually, there is no math... it's just counting, and you got enough fingers on your hand to count them all."

"Goddammit, Rick! It's not about me!" Although Jerry had lowered his voice again, his tone was still biting. "The ONLY reason we're having this conversation at all is because of YOU, and if you think it's okay to hurt my family again with your drug-addicted bullshit, then you got another think coming! How high are you right now?"

Surgeon Rick flattened his brow as he rose to his feet. "So we're back on that again, are we? Yawn. One of these days you might actually come up with new material." He still had the slight, yet noticeable limp in his stride as he turned and walked away from the table.

"Dad, please don't leave because of him!" Lizabeth pleaded. "At least take your plate with you!"

"No thanks. I've lost my appetite." Surgeon Rick dismissively waved a hand before he slipped through the door to the garage and gently shut it behind him.

"Goddammit, you dumb asshole! Now look what you've done!" Lizabeth turned her anger back on her husband. "If you had only kept your mouth shut and waited for an explanation-"

"What I DID?!" Jerry was incredulous. "Beth, how many times are you going to let that man disappoint you? Don't you see what he's doing to you? He's manipulating you into feeling sorry for him!"

"Just like you did to me so I'd marry you?" Lizabeth coldly accused him as she got to her feet. "No, my dad is above your tactics. Now shut up and take care of the kids while I fix the mess you've made." Without waiting for another reply, she stormed out of the dining room.

* * *

As Rick idly searched his surroundings for something to keep his mind occupied with, it occurred to him that he couldn't sit up properly even if he wanted to; his stomach muscles were too weak and his cracked ribs very much prevented it. He also wanted to see how bad the injury to his abdomen was, but he couldn't do that either; it was snugly buried beneath several layers of bandages and gauze. Being in such a useless state frustrated him, as did all the tubes and wiring he was still hooked up to; their locations ranged from inconvenient to downright embarrassing.

Now that he was wide awake, he was so bored that it was almost torturous; nobody had even bothered leaving behind a book for him to read. He couldn't derive entertainment out of Morty either; the little boy was asleep and so firmly pressed against his left side that he didn't look like he planned on moving any time soon.

He began humming to himself. It kept him occupied for about four seconds.

After taking a deep irritated sigh, the scientist scoured the shelves on the back wall of Surgeon Rick's garage for anything of interest. They were full of the usual clutter - boxes of photo albums, power tools, a couple of guitars that looked like they hadn't been played in years, and old gardening stuff. He was a little surprised to discover that there were no unusual gadgets or inventions lying around anywhere; the space certainly didn't look like it belonged to another Rick.

His eyes were soon drawn to the blackboard in the far corner; it was dusty like it hadn't been used in years, yet the unfinished math work still remained as if the author had gotten distracted or walked away. None of it was nonsense either; Rick understood everything. Among the hastily scrawled equations and planetary trajectory calculations, he recognized the earlier steps in the same portal gun formula that he had worked out all those years ago.

It wasn't until he did the math again in his head that he understood why it had been abandoned - three quarters of the way through, there was an error in the calculations and they had gone completely awry. Even though it was stupidly simple to fix, it meant that Surgeon Rick had never actually unlocked the secret to interdimensional travel for himself; he'd gotten within three steps and given up.

"Huh, that's weird... w-why would you get so close and stop there?" Rick wondered aloud to himself.

Just as he began entertaining the thought, he heard the sound of Lizabeth and Jerry's screaming match echoing through the walls of the house. When Surgeon Rick shoved his way back into the garage, he made a point of glaring at him, expressing his intense disapproval over their earlier conversation. However, the surgeon was far too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

"I should've never come back here..."

"Dad, wait up!" Lizabeth rushed in after him. "I'm sorry about Jerry. He might change his mind after I've had a chance to talk to him, so don't..." She trailed off as she struggled for the right words; she desperately wanted to open a dialogue about what had been had brought up, but she knew if she said the wrong thing now, she'd risk having him shut down on her. "...don't listen to him, OK?"

"Wasn't going to." Despite his thoroughly soured mood, the older male couldn't resist the opportunity to make another jab at Jerry's expense. "I have a policy of never arguing with an idiot. Onlookers might not know the difference." He made his way over to the bed and made himself look busy by checking the integrity of Rick's IV lines. "Why the fuck is he calling you 'Beth', anyway?"

"You're the only one who calls me 'Lizabeth' any more, Dad." Lizabeth gently reminded him. "I don't think anyone else has called me that since I was a little girl."

"Alright, so... not Lizabeth."

"Keep calling me 'Lizabeth' if you want to," the blonde haired woman began trying to steer the conversation in the direction she wanted it to go. "It was just another part of what made our bond so special."

"Ugh, how sentimental. Did you get that off a motivational cat poster?" Surgeon Rick made an irritated huff as he picked up Rick's medical records to read over. "What do you want from me, kid?"

Lizabeth knew there was no point in trying to butter him up and that he hated small talk; those aspects of him had never changed. "Dad, do you actually need to do some work around here, or are you trying to avoid talking to me?"

Surgeon Rick's expression was flat and unamused as his eyes rose to meet hers. "Yes."

Lizabeth shook her head and tried another angle. "It's nice having you home with us, but it's even better seeing you so healthy." Her breath momentarily hitched in her throat at the next thought. "I was so scared that somebody would find you dead in a gutter some day..."

The surgeon gritted his teeth; as much as he didn't want to talk, he knew how persistent his daughter could be until she got what she wanted. "Please, I'm smarter than that." After moving around the bed to stand in front of her, he thrust the medical records straight into her open hands. "If you're gonna keep bugging me, then take this and fill it in because I can't be fucked doing it myself." He stepped away again to change over the near-empty IV fluid bags with an ease born from years of practice.

"I still think what you did earlier was mean, but you have no idea how proud I am to see you back in the game and focused on your job." Lizabeth hesitated, but being given work to do was a good excuse to stay, so she took out a pen and began writing down notes. "Did you really save this guy's life?"

"If by me, you mean a team of me, run by a bigger group of me living in a constructed safe haven of my own design and governed by a council of more mes, then yeah... I did." Surgeon Rick bared his teeth, still intensely bitter over how the Council of Ricks had treated him during the hearing. "I-it's my job. Don't expect me to brag about it."

The explanation confused her and she wanted to know more, but she also didn't want to stray from her intended subject so she nodded down towards their patient. "I'm just glad it's not you lying there."

"Geez, would you stop that already?!" Surgeon Rick harshly returned. "I'm not like this guy, I'll never be like this guy, and he's lying there because of the dumb decisions he's made. I told you I'm smarter than that!"

"Hey, you know what? Go fuck yourself!" Rick suddenly spoke up; he had been quietly listening in on the conversation. "I-I thought I told you to get outta here. I don't wanna see you again for a long time!"

"Oh god, not you too..." Surgeon Rick muttered in a low voice as he removed four ampules of IV medicine and a bottle of liquid food from the set of drawers beside the bed. "Yo dawg, I hate to tell you this, but if a silver-rank is doing something directly related to your health and well being, then you have no authorization to boss them around."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

The other suddenly wished he hadn't said anything; he didn't want to tell the scientist about his new rank in case it went to his head, so he changed the subject. "Shut up and go back to sleep, bro. You gotta be feeling pretty tired." He stood beside the portable pump stand to swap out the old bottle for the new one.

"Y-yeah, I'm fucking exhausted from lying here doing nothing all day." Rick sounded positively petulant. "What exactly IS that, anyway?"

The last thing the surgeon wanted to do was to listen to his patient complain, but he knew it was a good sign that he was feeling better. "You mean the white shit that's been feeding you for the last five days? Oh man, a dietitian would get hard just thinkin' about it." He tapped the bottle for emphasis. "This stuff is a calorie-rich liquid that contains all the vitamins and minerals you need to survive. It's also been giving your stomach a break while you heal up, i-it's awesome."

Rick didn't care how 'awesome' it was; he just wanted it gone. "How much longer do I have to lie here until you pull these things out of me? And when are we going to discuss the fact that there's a tube shoved up my-"

The other Rick pulled thermometer out of his pocket and placed it into Rick's mouth before he could finish. "Quit your bitching. You're getting reassessed tomorrow morning and if the doc likes what he sees, then you might actually get to eat real food again. Either way, we're gonna take care of you until you get better, so don't be such a stubborn bastard about it. Usually people aren't this ungrateful about having their lives saved."

"I didn't ask you to do that!" Rick somehow managed to pronounce the words around the glass tube.

"You must have a short memory, don't ya? You gave us permission to do anything we wanted after the ship bullshit was done with. I was there, I'd remember something like that. Now give it a rest and let the thermometer finish taking your temperature, 'cause all your hot air ain't gonna make it happen any faster." Surgeon Rick snapped his fingers and pointed to his daughter. "You, get the readout and add it to his chart, I got better shit to do."

Rick bristled with contempt but continued to lie there and tolerate it; there was little else he could do for the time being. When the blonde-haired woman stood at his bedside again, he grabbed the employee ID tag that was still hanging off her belt from her last work shift; the information on it had caught his eye. "Your last name is 'Sanchez'? You never bothered marrying your Jerry?"

Surgeon Rick snorted in disgust and distracted himself with administering the IV medication ampules he had taken out. "Shouldn't have bothered, you mean..."

"I did," Lizabeth ignored her father and began to explain, "but I kept my old name for the bragging rights. My dad was an amazing high profile surgeon before his career was destroyed. If I even mention that I'm his daughter, people start lining up to give me scholarships and jobs. That's how I got this one." She gently pulled the tag out of his hand again and removed the thermometer from his mouth. "98.6°F is a low-grade fever. What should I do?"

"You write it down like I told you," came the gruff reply. "Doesn't get easier than that."

Rick knew he was prying now, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. "How'd he get fired?"

"Dude, stop." Surgeon Rick told him in a warning tone. "It's bad enough that you're endangering my turf just by being here, but now you're gettin' into shit you shouldn't be gettin' into. Back off, man. I-it's none of your business."

"It's OK, Dad. You shouldn't be ashamed and you shouldn't feel like you have to hide it either." Lizabeth sighed at him. "But you're right, it's not my place to talk about it. It's yours, so... go ahead."

"Ugh, what is WITH you this evening? All this... unnecessary nosy-ass dumb shit..." Surgeon Rick glared at his daughter and then at his patient as he silently debated blowing off the whole thing. However, he also knew that failing to provide a gold-rank with information could potentially get him into a lot of trouble, so he gave in. "Whatever, i-it doesn't even matter. You'd think I'd get fired for all those years of stealing medical supplies and stuff from the pharmacy, but nope. Instant dismissal for having consensual sex with a coworker."

Rick didn't understand what the big deal was or why he was so reluctant to talk about it. "Phh, so? Was she worth it?"

"He," Surgeon Rick sharply corrected him, "and no. Lesson learned - don't screw your boss. It was easier for him to throw me under the bus and save himself, the dumbass motherfucking..." He mumbled the rest under his breath, then gave a half-assed shrug and went back to what he had been doing. "Whatever... it hardly matters now."

"That's... that's messed up. Is that even legal?"

"Sure is. Same-sex relationships are still a criminal offense in this version of Earth. Just another one of the many reasons why I hate being here." He tossed the empty ampules into the trash. "Is there any other dirt you feel entitled to dig up while we're still doing this? Do you want my rap sheet or a list of the drugs I stole?"

Lizabeth flinched as the subject was brought back up so candidly, but it made her brave enough to finally ask the question she had been dreading since she had come back into the garage. "You're... not still using, are you?"

"And there it is." Surgeon Rick did his best to look disinterested as he came around to yank the medical records out of her clutches. "Look, kid... the answer doesn't matter, because no matter what I say, it looks like you've already made your mind up. You're either gonna accept it and continue enabling me if the answer is 'yes', which is pretty fucked up if you want my opinion-"

"Dad..."

"Or," he firmly spoke over her, "if the answer is 'no', then you're gonna spout off some shit about being proud of how far I've come and forgiving me for being such a shitty father to you during your formative years."

Lizabeth gave him a look of defeat.

"What's wrong, baby? You're finally starting to realize that your old man ain't such a stand-up guy, and that it's never going to change, aren't ya?" Surgeon Rick glared back, though he was far more angry at himself. "What do you want from me? Do you think you're gonna find closure for your crappy childhood by making it up with me? Do you want me to cry about it? Do you wanna hear that I was wrong about everything?" When nothing was said, he guessed at other answers. "D-do... do you want me to admit something about never being able to cope with losing your mother? I-is that what you want me to say?"

Lizabeth closed the short distance between them and wrapped her arms around her father's midsection, pulling him in for a hug. When she felt his body tense in protest, it only encouraged her to squeeze him even tighter.

It was more than enough to defuse his sour mood, but he still did his best to sound grumpy. "The hell you think you're doin'?"

"What does it look like, you big dummy? I don't care about the past anymore. Like I said over the phone, I love you... and you didn't fail me, Dad. I want you to come back home, because I miss having you around. I'd like to-"

"So you ARE taking the enabling route-"

"Dad, shut up and let me finish!" Lizabeth cuffed him in exasperation. "I'd like to work through our differences and finally put everything behind us. Is that so wrong?"

"Why are you so hellbent on that?" Surgeon Rick tried to pull back from her. "I-I... I thought you were better than this, kid. It's pretty weak-willed of you to let me off the hook for screwing up so bad. You had every right to tell me to fuck off. You were angry, and rightly so. If I were you, I wouldn't wanna see me again either. What made you cave in and change your mind?"

"It's not like that. See, you're not going to be around forever-"

"Holy shit," a wide grin flashed across his face. "Do you know something I don't?"

"As much as I love your sense of humor, it's not appreciated right now!" She snapped, having reached the end of her patience. "Damn it, Dad... don't you see that this standoff is never going to end until one of us backs down and apologizes? We both know your stubborn ass never will, so... it's going to have to be me."

His fake amusement faded again. "It's hardly your fault, sweetie."

"It's as much mine as it is yours," Lizabeth released him from the hug and looked him squarely in the eyes. "I'm sorry it took me so long, but I finally get you... I didn't know how to help with your drug addiction, so I pushed you away because I was young and scared. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. You did it because you were hurting... and I only made it worse."

Surgeon Rick wasn't looking at her anymore; he was staring off into space and his thoughts were elsewhere.

It didn't go unnoticed, but Lizabeth continued. "I'm big enough to admit that what I did was wrong, Dad. I can forgive you... but I think the other side of this problem is that you've been spending all this time trying to forgive yourself. Your past doesn't need to define you and it's time to let it go." She offered her hand out towards him in a peaceful gesture. "Your home is here with us, Dad. I want to be a real family again."

He had been waiting a long time for this moment to arrive, but he was filled with uncertainty now that it had; the thought of being hunted down by his traceable brainwaves was never far from his mind, and he was only going to expose her to the risk of being harmed if he stayed for any prolonged period of time. "Your offer is cute, but I can't accept. There's bigger shit than you or me at play here, and none of us can do anything about it."

"Can you at least try? We'll take the parts we can fix and forget about the rest. No matter how bad it is, we'll work it out. Please don't go away again, Dad," she was practically begging by now, "I'm scared you might never come back-"

"Not what I meant, sweetie." He stopped her with a short wave of his hand. "Look, I'll save you an overly complicated explanation and just give it to you straight. See this dude we're looking after? Remember how I told you that his Morty is an orphan? Well... that's his fault. It didn't happen on purpose, but... long story short, I don't wanna end up like that too. Just having me around is putting you in grave danger and it was a mistake to come back."

Lizabeth took two cautious steps backwards and was staring at him now, her expression a mix of bewilderment and alarm. "Wait... you're a fugitive? You're not going to kill me, are you?"

"Holy shit, WHAT!? Why would you even think that!?" Surgeon Rick admonished her, offended by the suggestion. "I know I'm screwed up, but damn, I'm not THAT fucked in the head! What's wrong with you!?"

"Sorry..."

"Yeah, you better be!" He loudly huffed. "If you want the long-ass version, then you best be shutting up while I lay it out for you, 'cause you have this annoying habit of interrupting me and asking, like, a hundred more questions before I get to the end, and sometimes I don't even get that far, so," he shrugged. "Whatever, we're done here. This guy won't need more more morphine or antibiotics until after midnight, and that gets done on my boss's shift."

"So you're leaving? Where are you going to go...?" Lizabeth sounded miserable as she stuffed the medical records back into the pigeonhole at the foot of the bed; her heart ached, her talk hadn't gone the way she wanted, and now she felt like she was the one being rejected.

"I dunno, away from here?" All the questions were making him feel irritable and the conversation had gone on far too long for his liking. "Maybe go to a bar, drink beer, maybe turn in and have an early night? Who cares. I need to turn off my brain and chill out, because all this thinking is giving me a fuckin' headache."

"We have beer in the fridge," she offered too quickly; anything to make him stay a little longer. "There's an Adam Sandler movie marathon on channel 22. Do you want to watch it?"

"Geez, I couldn't think of a worse way to waste my time." He made a face. "Ugh, fine. I guess an hour couldn't hurt."

Lizabeth wanted to crush him with another hug for how happy she was, but her grin faded again as she looked down at Morty. "If we're going, we shouldn't leave him there. He could roll off the bed during the night and seriously hurt himself."

"Ah shit, good thinking. Who knows what kind of trouble I'll get in if that happens... fuck knows I don't need any more heat on me right now." Surgeon Rick grumbled, then turned to face Rick. "Sorry bro, but the lady's right. As much as I don't wanna disturb your Morty because he needs you and all that shit, you can see him again in the morning. Press your buzzer if you need anything, I'll be somewhere... anywhere... w-whatever, I'm outta here." And with that, he switched off the lights and made a quick exit from the garage.

Lizabeth sighed, then stepped in to scoop up the youngster from his place at Rick's side so she could follow her father's lead. "I've been told you like to co-sleep with Morty. Break that habit as soon as you can. While it seems like an easy way out, he'll become totally dependent on you if keep letting him do it."

"You mean worse than he already is now?" Rick made a soft sound of mockery in reply; out of all his bad habits, that one was the least of his concerns.

The movement stirred Morty from his slumber and he lazily focused his eyes on his 'mother'; being in her arms was perfectly fine by him. However, he was not fine with leaving and began to whimper as Rick got further and further away, protesting to being taken from him yet again. By the time he was carried into the hallway, he was screaming and wailing, making his distress very audibly known. Lizabeth had obviously gotten used to it, because she continued on her way and ignored him.

As Rick listened to the noise, it presented him with a disconcerting realization - despite the fact that Morty still recognized and wanted his mother, he was expressing a distinct preference bias towards him. As much as he hated it, it meant that Ricktus had been right; Morty already had existing abandonment issues, but being moved from place to place so rapidly had utterly traumatized him.

Hearing him continue to cry out for him with such need and desperation made him feel sick to his stomach; he certainly hadn't done anything to earn that kind of adoration or loyalty. He was the cause of all of Morty's problems after all; if not for him, the little boy would still be with his real family.

A wave of guilt passed through him and his self-loathing and pain resurfaced all over again; he thought he was vile and despicable, a worthless fucked up piece of shit, and he hated himself more than ever. To make matters worse, he was stone-cold sober and couldn't even drown it out this time; all he could do was stare at the ceiling, alone with his thoughts in the dark.

The exchange between Surgeon Rick and Lizabeth only gave him something else to consider and it was like a window into the future; he knew he was more than capable of screwing up Morty just as badly if he allowed his own vices to take control of him.

It seemed that he had come full circle with his original dilemma; he still didn't have a clue what to do with Morty. However, he did know that the little boy was better off without him.

* * *

Rick wasn't sure how long he had slept for, but awareness didn't come back to him easily this time; his eyelids were heavy and his body felt like a lead weight. He quickly concluded that someone must have slipped him more sedation during the night.

When he finally did manage to force his eyes open, he discovered that he was naked, strapped to a cold metal gurney, partially covered by a flimsy cotton bedsheet, and under the bright glare of a medical examination lamp while five other versions of himself stood nearby and looked on like he was some kind of interesting science experiment.

In that moment, he may as well have been; Lab Rick D-69 had left his post to see the results of his labor, while the three Ricks beside him were from the Citadel's surgical team and had been gathering an update for one of their bosses. The fifth one was Ricktus himself, who simply watched him with a cold calculated expression and sipped from a paper coffee cup he held in his right hand; Rick wanted nothing more than to snatch it away and down it in one hit. He couldn't move, so he growled out the first thing on his mind instead.

"Not again... w-why do you keep doing this to me? Do you have some kind of weird fixation with tying me up and moving me to strange places?!"

"If you want to throw wild accusations at your doctor, then do it on your own time." One of the surgical Ricks spoke first. "We're doing this by the book now. No more guessing or taking chances."

"But he can probably take as many chances as he wants to, right?" His colleague turned away to examine the extensive collection of MRI scans that had been affixed to a series of lightboxes on the far wall. "Look at this shit... I-I've never seen anything like it before. Despite being eviscerated, nearly bleeding out and dying twice, he's patching up nicely. How the hell do you survive all that, with a liver transplant to boot, and walk away with nothing to show for it other than a wicked scar? He's gotta be indestructible."

"Maybe it wasn't his time yet?" The third surgical Rick suggested. "The universe only takes out its trash when it's ready. How much weight do you think this 'Rickest Rick' story really has? Maybe we're supposed to meet him."

"Ah fuck, K-93. Don't tell me you believe that nonsense as well!"

The Lab Rick looked over the MRI scans for himself. "Are his kidneys still functioning? I didn't get time to test my product on lab rats first."

A member of the surgical team absentmindedly pointed to the collection bag hanging off the side of the table.

The Lab Rick glanced back and followed the line of his hand. "Uh... is it supposed to be that color?" He stood directly behind the team of three and lowered his voice to a soft murmur. "I don't want this blowing back on me if he dies, understand? Have you heard what's going to happen to the guys who did this to him in the first place?"

"You know I can hear you, right? I'm right here, dipshit!" Ricktus angrily threw his coffee into the trash. "Now, if you're all done jerking off over the resilience of my patient, then maybe we might actually get to accomplish the things we're supposed to be doing here today, hmm?"

For once, Rick actually appreciated the doctor's hard humorless nature. Over the next half hour he felt like even more of a science experiment; a member of the surgical team checked his vitals, while another poked and prodded him all over for signs of injury that might have been missed previously. The third annoyed him most of all as he carried out another cognitive assessment and recorded the responses.

"What do you see here?" A picture card containing a dodecahedron was held up.

"Fuck you, I'm not doing this!" Rick raised his voice in defiance. "I don't wanna be here!"

The other Rick dutifully ignored him and held up the next card, which contained the symbol of pi. "What about this one?"

"Are you deaf?! I told you I'm not doing this, you dumb shithead!"

"And this one?"

"Bite me!"

The Rick flattened his brow and signed off on the bottom of the document. "Well, I'm convinced that he doesn't have any kind of brain damage, but he's still an asshole. It's a terminal case."

"Eat my ass, you fucking cocksucker!"

Satisfied with the findings of the physical and mental examinations, the team turned their sights to their patient's outstanding injuries. Before he could react, Rick's sheet covering was discarded, leaving him bare with everything on show for all to see.

"You gotta be kidding me... have you morons ever heard of consent?!" The scientist struggled against his bindings, but he was still too weak to do anything significant. "You sick fucks are actually enjoying watching me suffer, aren't you?!"

"Yeah, maybe a little." The Lab Rick chuckled.

"Shut up and stay focused. You're pissing him off and it's not achieving anything productive." Ricktus retained his cold clinical professionalism. "Cut him loose and finish the final examination."

Rick's anger turned into curiosity as the layers of bandage and gauze matting were snipped away from his midsection, exposing deep bruises and a long uneven line of stitches that ran from his right flank, curved with his lowest rib, and dipped into his belly button. Although the severity of the wound made him keenly aware of just how close he had come to dying, he was still bitter that they'd bothered saving him at all.

"The incision site looks clean. No sign of infection." One of the surgical team members noted aloud as he resumed his poking and prodding. "Do you feel any numbness or tingling?"

"No, but YOU will." Rick spat back with as much menace as he could. "I'm gonna make your whole face numb as soon as my arms are free!"

The team took advantage of the fact that their patient was still restrained and quickly worked on coating the stitches with antiseptic, while another removed his tubing and stitched up the tiny hole on his stomach. After it was done, they rebandaged him and stood back to await further instructions.

"Well, there you go. You have some of your freedom back, just like you wanted. Or kept demanding in your case." Ricktus stepped forward and stood over the other with a vague look of boredom on his face. "From now on, you'll have to eat food again like the rest of us."

"You call this freedom?" Rick retorted. "Look at me, dumbass!"

"I already have, but you were asleep for most of it. It's my duty to look at my patients. You didn't think that one through, did you? No." The doctor folded his arms across his chest. "Fortunately for you, it looks like you're going to live to fight another day despite all your stupidity and complete disregard for your own safety. We ran more bloodwork while you were out and it looks like your immune system is coming back online. Your new liver is doing well and you're obviously feeling better because you're trying to fight everyone here. The Council will be pleased to hear it."

"The Council can kiss my ass!"

"Yes, well... take it up with them, but I don't think they're going like the suggestion." Ricktus suppressed the desire to laugh; he could easily imagine what the outcome would be. "I'm satisfied with your progress, but you're still not ready to be released, so I'm going to send you back where you came from with your personal effects from the Citadel and a list of instructions. I expect you to follow them to the letter."

"NO!" It was almost automatic.

"Hmm, nice try, but on this occasion I'm issuing you with official doctor's orders. They're going to be for your own good, so you don't have a say in the matter. It has always been my goal to release you back into the wild with a clean bill of health and nothing has changed, even if it's taking longer than I originally anticipated."

"W-wh-why would I follow YOUR orders?" Rick huffed in indignation. "You said so yourself, this is all your fault!"

"Thank you for the reminder, B-526. I'd nearly forgotten about it." The reply was sarcastic, yet still somehow polite. "You know what happened last time when you didn't follow my instructions. You belong to Riq IV now, so... who knows what he'll do to you if you decide to resist this time."

"This is bullshit!" Rick declared. "I-I don't belong to anyone!"

"Uh-huh," the doctor flatly replied; his patient's desire to argue was becoming tiring to listen to. "You won't have to follow the orders for long if you do what they say. You're going to need to drink a lot of water until you flush the remaining crystal deposits out of your system, but you also get to eat all the soup, oatmeal, pudding, and ice-cream you could ever want. It's going to be easy, so try to put your stubbornness aside for once."

"Wait..." Rick's anger practically disintegrated. "There's ice-cream? Where?"

* * *

Two more days of rest and recovery saw Rick in a better place; he was soon able to sit up without pillows or support, but being confined to bedrest was making him go stir crazy. The Guard Ricks, Ricktus, and Surgeon Rick had left him alone since the prank incident which he was perfectly fine with; he was far too angry with all of them to want their company. Looking at the same four walls each day made him more irritable and cranky than usual, and not even the MP3 player he'd been given as a peace offering, nor the massive library of reading material on his datapad could keep him occupied for long.

He'd spent so much time looking at the mistakes on the chalkboard in the corner of the garage that it made him angry knowing they still existed, and when he couldn't stand it any longer, he slid off the edge of the bed to fix them.

He immediately regretted it; he was still so weak that his arms couldn't support his weight and he abruptly met with the floor, his IV stand crashing down with him. In the same instant, he felt a sudden sharp sting in his arm and he knew at once that the line had been ripped out.

The scientist clenched his teeth to stifle a yell in case there was someone nearby to hear it; he could already hear the oncoming lectures about not taking care of himself or being stupid again. After spending time quietly breathing through the pain, he pulled one of the blankets from the bed to drape around his bare shoulders and keep himself warm. Once he had recovered enough, he hauled himself back to his feet, refusing to stay down.

With renewed strength fueled by anger, he made the slow journey to his intended destination and wrote over the dusty old portal gun formula with a piece of red chalk, correcting each line of math in much the same way a teacher would correct a student's work. Below the adjustments, he scribbled a quick piece of feedback commentary:

 _"Stop giving up so easily, you dumbass piece of shit.  
_ _\- R"_ _  
_

Satisfied with his handiwork, he had every intention of returning to bed. However, when he heard the sound of loud laughter coming from the next room, he shuffled off to investigate; anything was better than staying there.

In the living room, he found Lizabeth sitting on the edge of the couch and closely supervising a pillow fight between her children and his Morty. She didn't notice the new arrival and leaned forward to pull her daughter away by the arm before things could get out of hand.

"Don't be so rough, baby," she told Summer in a firm parental tone. "You're bigger than them and they can get hurt more easily. Nobody wants this silly game ending in tears."

"But moooom!" Summer loudly whined in objection. "They started it!"

"Well, I'm finishing it!"

"H-hey." Rick stood back in the doorway, not entirely certain what to do next; the family space didn't belong to him and neither did the family for that matter. He also knew that nothing good would come of getting too involved.

Lizabeth was on her feet at once as she heard the familiar voice and turned to face him, her eyes widening in confusion; she still wasn't used to seeing the different versions of her father just yet. "What are you doing up? You're supposed to be resting."

"I was getting cold... and I needed a change of scenery." Rick answered, hating how worn down he sounded. "Do you have anything I can wear? A-anything..."

Lizabeth gave him a sympathetic nod and left the room. She returned only a few moments later with a pair of well-worn grey sweatpants and stood in front of him to hand them over. "Sorry... this should fit you, but I don't have anything better. My dad doesn't keep much of his stuff here any more."

"I-it's fine." The pain made it difficult, but he pushed through it and pulled them on. "I was getting tired of looking like I escaped from a nudist colony."

A high-pitched squeal came from the middle of the room as Morty spotted his grandfather and he ran over with both arms reaching out towards him, demanding to be picked up. "R-Rii-IIIIII!"

"Well shit, little buddy... you're getting fast." Rick wanted to bend down and fulfill his request, but his injuries prevented him from doing so. "Calm down, Morty. Grandpa's not going anywhere."

"My son would never do that." Lizabeth informed him with a soft laugh. "Your Morty cries a lot and scares easily, but he's more outgoing, and... well... brave."

Rick felt a sharp pang of regret at the reminder; she obviously had no idea. "Y-yeah."

"They have such different personalities that it's hard to believe they're the same person," the blonde-haired woman went on. "He was shy at first, but he's really settling in well here." Her voice became quiet. "Dad told me he lost his real mother. I'm so sorry."

"Nothing can be done about it now," Rick awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck; he didn't want to discuss it. "R... r-reality is reality, no matter how harsh."

It was then that Lizabeth noticed the needlestick injury where Rick's IV line had come out and the thin trail of blood that was dripping down his arm. "That wasn't supposed to happen... should I call my dad? I can fix it for you, but he'll want to know about it."

"Fuck him," Rick grumpily returned, "I don't wanna deal with him again if I can help it."

Lizabeth gave a fed up sigh. "You sound just like him."

"Yeah, no shit."

"Um, perhaps you should go back to bed." She suggested instead, wanting to avoid another potential confrontation. "Do you want me to turn up the thermostat in the garage?"

"I told you, I don't wanna be there any more. I don't wanna be here either, i-in your house I mean, but I can't leave until I get my portal gun back... or I manage to steal one from somebody." Rick cleared his throat uncomfortably. "No offense."

"None taken." Lizabeth was briefly silent as she pondered how best to handle the situation. "If you're that bored, then why don't you make yourself comfortable and watch the kids? I have a few things I need to do."

Rick opened his mouth to object, but Lizabeth had already taken him by the arm and was gently guiding him towards the couch. In another moment, he was seated with the remote control to the TV and was left alone with Morty and Lizabeth's children.

Summer climbed up onto the cushion beside him and timidly glanced in his direction. "Are you my grandpa...? Can you give me Christmas presents like my Grandpa Leonard and Grandma Joyce?"

"Phh, that's all you're worried about?" Rick wanted to laugh. "You got your own Grandpa Rick for that."

Summer looked puzzled. "But that's you..."

Rick chose to flip through TV channels with the remote in favor of explaining the existence of alternate realities to her, knowing the concept would be lost on such a young child. "Sure kid, if you say so. Tell me what you want and I'll deliver the info where it's supposed to go."

Over the next several minutes, he listened to Summer talk about the latest toys she'd seen on TV commercials and in catalogs, while he tolerated Morty loudly babbling over her in his nonsense language; it was obvious that the little boy was jealous and wanted his undivided attention. Meanwhile, Morty C-711 sat back and stayed out of the way, both shy and a little overwhelmed by all the noise.

Rick could already feel annoyance welling up inside him, but let Morty's behavior slide; he'd been through more than enough and a scolding was the last thing he needed. "Hey, come on, don't be like that." He patted the empty space on the other side of him. "Get your ass up here, there's more than enough of me to go around."

Morty wasted no time clambering up to join him, then possessively clung onto him with both hands. "N-no!"

"Ugh, you're such a shit." Rick flinched in discomfort. "Be careful, Morty... I'm still not a hundred percent."

Before long, Lizabeth came back carrying two cups of hot chocolate and handed one of them to him as she took her place back on the couch. He wordlessly took it and held it in both hands, immediately feeling the warmth radiating from the liquid inside; it smelled so much better than any of Birdperson's herbal teas. As his eyes focused on the marshmallow she'd so thoughtfully included, he had to remind himself again that this wasn't his dimension and that he needed to stay distant; she'd more than likely never see him again as soon as he was well enough to leave.

Just sitting there with Lizabeth and Summer after losing them so violently was both surreal and jarring; Summer was bright-eyed, full of attitude, and exactly as he remembered her, while Lizabeth shared similar mannerisms and facial expressions to his Beth and seemed to care about him in the same way. It made him realize just how much he missed his girls, but in a strange way it was also reassuring; an infinite number of realities meant that they would still be alive wherever his dumb decisions hadn't affected them.

Lizabeth noticed his silence, but picked up the remote and changed the channel to one that she knew her father liked, figuring that Rick would probably have similar viewing tastes. "I was going to ask how you're liking it here, but I already know the answer. I'm going to miss you when you go."

"Phh, no you won't." Rick scoffed. "I-it's not me you want. You need to take this up with your own Rick."

"I tried..." Lizabeth's voice was openly sad. "I really, really tried..."

"Well, try harder." Rick took a sip of his hot chocolate and savored the taste; it had been a long time since he'd had anything like it. "Do you want me to hit him for you?"

Lizabeth softly chuckled at the suggestion, though she couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. "Sure. Maybe you can knock some sense into him."

Many minutes passed as they sat in silence; Rick watched TV and slowly drank the remaining contents of his cup, while Lizabeth finished off her own and closely watched him. Although he was well aware of what she was doing, he chose to ignore her in hopes of not having to talk; her issues had nothing to do with him and the fact that she already sounded partially attached concerned him.

He knew he needed to leave sooner than later, and preferably as quickly as possible.

"So, what is he like these days?" Lizabeth suddenly blurted out. "Has he really changed that much?"

"Ugh... don't you have anything better to do? Why aren't you at work or studying?" Rick could feel his temper rising and took a deep breath in an effort to remain calm. "Why do you have to bug me about this?"

"The teaching hospital doesn't do lectures on Mondays or Fridays, and right now, my job is to take care of you and the kids." Lizabeth knew she was pushing it, but didn't care; she had to know. "Please... it's only one question. Is my dad better than he used to be?"

"Look, I-I don't know!" Rick leaned forward to put his empty cup down on the coffee table and winced at the pain it caused; the amount of effort it took also frustrated him further. "We barely know each other. I only met him a few weeks ago, I didn't even know he existed before that."

"Oh..." Her shoulders sank in disappointment. "I got the impression that you were friends."

"Yeah, well... me too." Rick ruffled a hand through his spiky hair, which was even messier than usual because it hadn't been combed in over a week. "So much for that."

Morty suddenly decided it was a good time to be annoying and climbed over Rick's lap so he could wedge himself in the small gap between Summer and her mother. Once he'd gotten comfortable, he began kicking her to push her away, treating her in the same way he would have treated his actual sister.

"Mooom, make him stop!" Summer howled in protest.

Lizabeth dealt with the behavior by picking the little boy up and setting him down on the floor in front of her so he couldn't do it any more. "That's enough," her tone was stern, yet gentle at the same time. "It's not nice to hurt people."

Before the words were fully out of her mouth, Morty had kicked Summer again on the way down and she began to cry. Lizabeth just sighed with weariness and consoled her daughter with a hug while Morty held onto his 'mother's' left leg like he was never going to let go.

Although Rick had wanted to break up the hostilities between the two, it was already over within seconds of beginning. "Goddammit, Morty! Why do you have to be so antisocial!?" Watching him cling to Lizabeth only reaffirmed his earlier thoughts; Morty still wanted his mother as well as him. He had no idea what to do about it.

It was going to make things a lot more complicated.

The noise attracted the attention of Surgeon Rick, who had been looking for his patient for the last couple of minutes. He casually wandered into the room and stood behind the couch, then rested both arms on the tops of the cushions. "Ah, so that's where you went... why aren't you in bed?"

Rick flattened his brows. "I do what I want."

"Not this again." Surgeon Rick made a soft sigh and rolled his eyes. "How many times do I gotta remind you that you're still recovering from major surgery? When are you gonna start listening to me?"

"I'm not listening to you now." Rick growled back in response. "Go away."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, brother." The surgeon delicately removed an ampule of injectable solution from his pocket and waved it over the other's head. "It's time for your medication."

"Get that shit away from me! I don't like what it does," Rick's gravelly voice took on the petulant, almost childish tone again. "It makes me sleepy and gives me fucked up dreams... m-more so than usual, I mean."

"It's not negotiable," Surgeon Rick countered. "I get where you're comin' from, but it's gotta be done. You got a 20 minute window before the old stuff wears off and you're gonna not gonna like it when that happens." He narrowed his eyes. "Don't make me force it, bro... I don't wanna do that to you."

"I said NO!" Rick remained adamant.

"You wouldn't be able to administer it anyway," Lizabeth chimed in before it could escalate any further. "His IV cannula came out."

Surgeon Rick turned his frustrations on her. "Seriously? Why didn't you come get me as soon as you noticed it?"

"He didn't want me to-"

"You don't work for him!" Surgeon Rick loudly interrupted. "And even if you did, you would have known that it's in the best interests of his health, so you would have fixed it anyway." He stood up again and pinched his brow. "Damn it kid, we can't afford to screw up again. There's no coming back this time!"

"I'm sorry, Dad!" Lizabeth cringed. "I'm still learning. It seemed right-"

"Well it wasn't-"

"O-oh my god... both of you, knock it off!" Rick cut across them and locked his harsh glare straight up at Surgeon Rick. "I have enough of my own problems without having to listen to yours! Not that it's any of my business, but if I still had my daughter, I would put my petty bullshit aside and work it out with her. I'm beginning to think you like getting into fights with the people you give a damn about!"

"No way, it's not like that at all..."

"What is it like, then? Because you need to do something about it!" Rick launched into a rambling tirade. "I would have said that I'm not stupid enough to have gotten into this mess in the first place, but apparently I did, because you're living proof of it. First your stupid boss, then me, and now this? What's wrong with you!?"

Surgeon Rick just stood there and took it like it was a deserved punishment.

"S-stop that! You're never gonna solve anything by being subservient or dominant, a-and take it from me when I say that you can't just run from your problems either. It'll come back to bite you in the ass." Rick had a grim expression on his face at the thought. "This isn't the first time I've had to tell you to settle your differences with people. Why is it easier to do that with your boss than with your own daughter?"

"Get off my back, man..."

"Oh no, buddy, not this time. I've had to listen to this bullshit since I got here whether I wanted to or not, and I'm tired of it. If your daughter wants to make it up to you, then you should let her!" Rick bit back. "Back the fuck down and fix your shit, bro. Fix your shit while you still can. Whatever you gotta do. Buy a toolbox and do it yourself, or call a mechanic, or take it to the repair store, but shut up about it... and fix your shit. And don't talk to me again until you do!"

Sometime during the speech, Surgeon Rick had lowered his head and was staring down at his feet. "I-is that an order...?"

"If it has to be." Rick muttered before shakily standing up. "I'm outta here. I'm done talking to you."

Surgeon Rick gave him a short tense nod. "Y-yes, sir."

"I'll go back to bed on one condition - I want a TV." Rick snatched up his blanket. "Come on Morty, let's hit it. We got better things to do than listen to this bullcrap."

Lizabeth watched him leave and gave her father a strange look, not entirely understanding what had just happened. "Is that your boss?"

Morty tightly clutched his 'mother's' leg in his uncertainty; he wanted to follow his favorite person, but he also wanted to stay there. As Rick got further away, he gave a small shriek of alarm and hurried after him. "Nn-no!"

It was only after they were gone that Surgeon Rick felt comfortable enough to talk again. "Sorta... but not really? Uh, he's about to be. It's complicated, sweetie."

"It didn't look that complicated to me." Lizabeth shrugged. "If he expects you to do what he says, then he's your boss. You looked willing to take it too, and you hate people telling you what to do."

"Yeah, yeah, you don't need to give me the definition or a running commentary, kid. I know." The other let out a resigning sigh, obviously not wanting to be in the position he found himself in. "Well, you heard what he said. We're already here, so let's get this over with. I don't know how to start... why don't we just get into it and see where it goes?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Lizabeth nodded in agreement, "but not in front of the kids." She gently nudged her daughter's shoulder. "Summer, the grownups need to talk. Go play in your room and take Morty with you."

Summer openly pouted, but obeyed and slid off the couch. "Alright, mom... but he always breaks my toys!" She made a show of loudly stomping her feet as took her baby brother by the hand and led him away.

"So, um," Surgeon Rick hesitated, then gave up and took his place on the couch next to her. "Shit, you know I'm no good at this stuff... a-and I already have a pretty good idea of what you wanna ask." He began to nervously tap his foot. "Truth be told, I don't wanna be here or do this with you anymore either. I'm tired, I'm old, I'm less tolerant of stupidity than I used to be, and I have fewer allies as the years go on."

He paused to wait for a response, but she said nothing, so he went on.

"You were the first ally I had, and it'd be nice to get back to that. You always were a good kid, but you're too much like your mother... and worse, you're like me. You're stubborn, you're bitchy, and you won't back down from an argument even when you're wrong. I-I think you inherited the worst from both of us."

"Dad, where are you going with this?" Lizabeth would have gladly gotten into the topic; her father was never willing to talk about her dead mother. However, it didn't feel appropriate to go off on that tangent. "Are you stalling?"

"Uh, maybe?" Surgeon Rick ran a hand through his hair and grabbed a spike tuft to fidget with. "Didn't I just get through telling you I'm no good with this stuff?"

"Dad, please... tell me the truth." Lizabeth pleaded with a pained expression on her face. "Are you still a drug addict or not?"

Surgeon Rick didn't answer immediately; it was not a topic he had ever been comfortable with discussing, even though he knew it was coming. Part of him wanted to leave because it was what he'd always done. He also pondered ditching his reality for good; he'd often fantasized about what it would be like to live in a world where his wife was still alive and where he'd never ruined his daughter's childhood. However, he also knew he'd always regret such a decision, and that the relationship he shared with Lizabeth wasn't completely broken beyond repair. He'd hurt her more than enough - it was time for it to come to an end.

When he finally did speak again, the words were quiet and devoid of his typical fake enthusiasm. "It's not that simple."

"Yes it is!" Lizabeth snapped, feeling her emotions rise up; she feared that the conversation would likely take the same direction as all the ones before it and was determined not to let it happen again. "It's a straightforward yes or no answer. Are you still using? Are you getting help? Did you get clean? Are you cured?"

"Whoa, there you go again with your hundred questions. Take it down a few notches, huh?" The surgeon raised both hands in surrender. "Are you sure you wanna know? You might not like what you hear."

"Damn it, YES!" She was nearly yelling now. "Quit stalling and just tell me already!"

"Alright, alright! I'll tell you. Settle down, kid." Surgeon Rick lowered his hands again, clasped them tightly in his lap, then nodded in acceptance and decided to start. "You're smart. You know the medical definition of an addiction, which is why you should know your questions are dumb - they're not the ones you should be asking." He paused to gather his thoughts. "Firstly, an addict is an addict. You don't get cured, 'cause nobody does. You just choose to stop. And I have... for the most part."

Lizabeth kept her voice calm and even, but she was clearly upset by what she was hearing. "What... what do you mean 'for the most part'?"

"I got my shit under control and I'm doing better than I was. I'm older and a lot less impulsive than I used to be, but sometimes it still gets to me if you know what I mean." His expression was honest and serious. "The problem isn't that I wanna get high. The problem is that I wanna get so high that I forget who I am and if I exist anymore or not. Plus it's fun and a great distraction. Now, I know that's not a good coping mechanism, but it's the truth, and... w-whatever. Point is, I got my shit back together, and... i-is this making sense? Are you following me?"

Lizabeth's face shifted towards concern; she was not used to seeing her father like this at all. "Is it really that bad for you?"

"It's not that bad compared to some. I'm just a mediocre weak-willed piece of shit and that's never gonna change." Surgeon Rick made a dry amused huff. "I'm sorry you got stuck with me, kid. Your mom would have done so much better at this job than me."

"It's not that bad..." She repeated the words aloud to herself, and then was silent in thought for a few moments. "What drugs do you use?"

"Uh, anything I can get my hands on?" The other shrugged. "Pharmaceuticals, opiates, and inhalants, mostly. And alcohol. I ain't ever gonna give up beer though, you can't make me." He folded his arms, grumpy at the idea. "And while we're airing our dirty laundry, I grow and supply kalaxian crystals for fun and profit. Is this the part where you throw me out and tell me never to come back?"

"I built a bridge and got over that, Dad. All I want to do now is help you." Lizabeth responded in a low voice. "Is there anything I can do? Do you want to go to rehab? It's not cheap, but it will get you somewhere safe and locked up where you can't hurt yourself while you receive treatment."

"Do you wanna get off that high-road? Rehab is stupid. It's a place where they try to forcefully recondition your behavior, but if you don't want it, then it won't stick. If you do wanna the make the change, then you don't need a lockup facility for that." Surgeon Rick hunched forwards and stared at the empty cups on the coffee table. "Besides... already been there, done that, got the t-shirt and the badge. The dudes who brought me in gave me a job working for them afterwards. If you think about it, it's a really neat way to find new employees."

"Oh... why would they continue allowing you to be around any drugs at all, knowing your history?"

"Sweetie... they ARE me, and knowing me, I don't think I would care too much about what I get up to." Surgeon Rick sighed with tiredness; he didn't want to explain the Citadel of Ricks to her. "That's the important stuff done. Can we stop now?"

Lizabeth nodded in agreement, not wanting to push him too far. "I just wish there was more I could do."

"I'm doing better. That's all you need to know." He grunted; it was clear that he was done with the conversation topic. "I-I don't understand you, kid. Why did you wanna reconnect with me so bad? There's gotta be more to this than just wanting shit to end. It's not like you to change your mind on anything."

"There is. I'm a terrible person, Dad... I sure as hell didn't make your life any easier for you when I was growing up." Lizabeth admitted miserably. "I want to stop feeling so bad every time I think about you."

"Yeah? Welcome to the club." He peered up at her. "If you ever find a way to make that happen, you come let me know."

The two sat in the silence that followed, but Lizabeth was smiling; she couldn't remember a time where a discussion with her father had been so productive. She'd gotten more out of him in the last few minutes than she ever had before, and she felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She'd spent so many years angry at him that feeling sorry for him was strange and foreign to her, but she also admired him all the more; it must have been difficult for him to be honest about everything like that.

Meanwhile, Surgeon Rick sat, his posture stiff as a board and his emotions concealed, waiting to see what would happen next. He hadn't been yelled at and they hadn't gotten into another argument, which he took as a good sign, but now he was concerned that she was busy scheming a different line of attack.

The moment seemed to stretch out forever, but it was Lizabeth who would break the silence this time. "Hey Dad, what was Mom like?"

"Ugh... what brought that question on? You really wanna do this now?"

"You mentioned her earlier and we were already talking, so I thought I'd ask, but... if you don't want to-"

"It's fine," Surgeon Rick grunted over her, "but are you sure you don't wanna keep on pretending she was a perfect person? Because if that's how you wanna think about her, I don't care, but I ain't ruining anything for you unless you want me to."

She gave the question some careful consideration. "I want to know, Dad."

"Typical. Always gotta know everything, don't ya?" Surgeon Rick looked equal parts irritated and discontent as he sat up again. Several insults came to mind, but he settled on a few less harsh ones. "Well... she was kind of a nerd and she didn't understand me, but mostly she was a huge bitch."

"Oh..." Lizabeth's face fell.

"But, uh, she was a good person?" He offered quickly. "Not a day went by where she didn't wanna help people. She was fiercely independent and had a fiery disposition and... s-she didn't deserve to go out the way she did." He clutched his hands together so tightly that his fingers turned white. "I know she would've loved you, kid. She left us too soon and I-I..." His voice began to break up and he had to stop himself.

"Dad, it's OK, I know how you feel." She curled up against him and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Actually, that's a lie. It's not OK and I'll never know how you feel, but you don't have to be alone anymore. I'm here for you for whatever you need."

"Goddamn it, i-it's fine. It's stupid anyway." The other furiously brushed at his eyes with the sleeve of his scrubs. "I don't know why I get like this, I'm not even drunk." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Whatever. Did you wanna know shit or not?"

Lizabeth gave him a singular nod, and then patiently sat through the stories her father told about her mother's life, how they had met, and what kind of work they did together. Before long, she took the old photo albums out and he was talking about the memories attached to the pictures taken within. When he got to the photos he had taken of her, he became even quieter and the same regretful sadness hung over him once again.

"You... you really kept these all this time?"

"Of course." Lizabeth tried to reassure him by placing a gentle arm around his shoulders. "It's alright, Dad. You're the only one still holding onto the past, but there's nothing to gain from it. Let it go."

"You're very persistent, aren't you?"

"Well, I had a good teacher." The blonde-haired woman mused.

"Do you think I could... c-can I get some copies made?" He asked as he delicately leafed through the back pages of the album. "I had most of these already, but they were lost in the explosion. I didn't think I was ever gonna see them again."

"There was an explosion?" Lizabeth quizzically raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, that. Yeaaaaaah, uh..." The question helped bring him out of his mood and he quickly explained the story about his time with the doctor and the ship, how they had come to pick up the important Rick in the garage, how they were all being hunted down and chased across the multiverse, and how they had gotten into the situation they found themselves in now.

"...and that's why I can't stay. It's not that I don't wanna hang around, but it's for your own protection and safety." He finished off. "Like I said, it's pretty fuckin' complicated."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Lizabeth sounded disappointed. "I wish I there was something I could do to make it go away."

"Me too, kid. Me too." And just like that, he was back to his grumpy old self. "Ah shit, before I forget, I got one other confession to make – my boss broke your gameboy. Sorry about that."

Lizabeth wanted to laugh out loud at how childishly silly it was. "That old thing? It's fine, Dad!"

"Holy shit, I'm glad YOU'RE cool with it, 'cause I'm not!" Surgeon Rick teased back. "Do you have any idea how much it cost me back in 1989? They weren't cheap, you know!"

"Relax, Dad. Nintendo sold more than 110 million of them worldwide. It's not like you can't ever buy another one."

"It's not the same! That one had sentimental value."

"To you, maybe."

"Seriously!?" He dramatically placed his hand on his heart and pretended to be insulted. "It was a birthday present from your loving father, you ungrateful brat!"

With their defenses down, they were finally able to enjoy each other's company again. They began catching up on the time they had missed out on, as well as talking about whatever came to mind.

As Lizabeth snuggled her father's arm, she couldn't help but feel like she was being watched; she wrote it off as nerves from their earlier conversation and pointed out the stupidities in the TV show they were watching instead. Before long, Surgeon Rick was laughing at her sense of humor, and for the first time in a long time, he was genuinely smiling instead of hiding behind one or faking it. He knew he'd made the right decision even if it wasn't the one he had wanted to make.

He also knew that he owed Rick his gratitude for forcing him into it, as well as a big apology before he could make his life a living hell.

Both of them were so distracted that they didn't notice the audience they'd had the entire time, and nor did they hear the sounds of footsteps moving away as their house guest retreated back into the shadows of the garage, feeling quite smug and pleased with himself.

* * *

The next morning, Rick was found where he was supposed to be for once; he sat on the side of his bed with his legs dangling over the edge while he casually strummed one of the guitars he had taken from the garage shelves. He stopped every now and again to adjust the tuning keys; his right hand was still bandaged which made playing difficult, but he still managed it anyway.

When Ricktus wheeled in a bedside tray table containing his patient's breakfast, Rick pretended he didn't exist; he still wasn't interested in talking to him or the food he had to offer. He never thought he'd see the day where he would get sick of ice-cream, but just thinking about it made him want to gag.

Surgeon Rick arrived shortly afterwards, and Ricktus gave him a look of concern as he nodded in Rick's direction. He was given a shrug in reply, and then a whole conversation of silent expressions and gestures took place, neither of them wanting to be the one to tell their patient that he needed to eat.

It was so amusing to watch that it made the scientist chuckle in spite of how annoyed he was with them. "You idiots got punished for what you did to me, didn't you?"

Surgeon Rick's hands dropped to his sides. "How'd you know?"

"Don't think I didn't notice how weird you've both been acting lately. I also guessed it after what you said yesterday." Rick told him with a smug grin. "You called me 'sir'. You've never done that before. So what are they making you do besides babysitting me? Do you have to do everything I say? Did you get grounded? Do you have to do fifty push-ups every morning and scrub the latrines?"

Ricktus was reluctant to answer, but quickly gave in and told the truth. "The Council voted to banish us, but it wasn't unanimous so it didn't pass."

"Holy shit, you call THAT a punishment?!" Rick was laughing properly now. "That sounds more like an invitation to fuck up even harder. If they let you go, you'd get your freedom back!"

"If they let us go, yes." The doctor made an uncomfortable sound in the back of his throat as he watched the guards and chose his next words carefully. "The Council is not above corporal punishment. We got off lightly considering the circumstances, but if they had chosen differently, I wouldn't be surprised if they made an example of us in front of the entire Citadel."

"Yeah dude, how they dealt with us was fuckin' messed up, but it could have been worse." Surgeon Rick agreed. "If we'd been banished, then we probably woulda never seen you again. Both of us also still have shit to finish and I kinda wanna see it through, y'know?"

Rick narrowed his eyes and his amusement faded. "That doesn't sound like your philosophy at all."

"What do you mean?"

The scientist pointed to the corrected portal gun formula on the chalkboard in the far corner of the room. "You don't see anything through unless somebody makes you. If you had just stuck to your guns, you would've been able to escape from your own personal hell years ago."

Surgeon Rick glanced in the indicated direction and spent a few moments reading. "Ugh, this looks like something I wrote when I was drunk." He reread it and his eyes widened in realization of what it was. "Oh shit, you finished it... don't leave that there, bro! That's sensitive information!"

"Did you fix shit with your daughter?" It wasn't really a question; he already knew the answer and wanted to prove his point.

"Yeah, mostly. I have an open invitation to come back here if that's what y-"

"Would you have done it if I hadn't ordered you to?"

Surgeon Rick lowered his head. "No..."

"I'd tell you to get your heads out of the Council's asses, but I'd be repeating myself and I feel like I'm wasting my time at this point." Rick huffed in disgust; it seemed like they hadn't taken any of his advice at all. "When can I leave?"

"Maybe on Thursday, maybe the day after that. I'd feel more comfortable with releasing you if you ate more." Ricktus took it as an opportunity to nudge the tray table towards him. "You're already underweight as it is and you won't get better if you don't eat."

"What are you, my mother? Get it outta here!" Rick promptly pushed it away the second it came within his reach.

"No, but I'm your acting physician and you are my responsibility until you are discharged." The doctor answered matter-of-factly as he wheeled the table back and held it firmly in place. "In my earlier clinical notes, I noted that you might have eating issues. If that's true, do you want to go back on the liquid food diet? It's not optimal, but it's better than nothing and it will keep you fed."

"No!" Rick slapped a hand against his forehead and groaned. "Look, I don't have problems with food, I'm just not hungry. Besides, does that even look like food to you? I-it's unappetizing... it looks like something somebody threw up!"

Rolling his eyes, Ricktus grumbled something under his breath as he moved away and found a chair to sit on. "Fine, be that way. But I'm not going anywhere until you eat something."

"You'll be waiting forever, dumbass!" Rick childishly shot back.

Not wanting the situation to escalate further, Surgeon Rick stepped in between them and changed the subject. "H-hey. Can we talk about something? Like, real talk?"

Rick placed his left hand back on the fret of the guitar and resumed strumming the strings with his right. "No."

Surgeon Rick tried anyway. "I'm sorry man," and he truly was; it was easy to tell by the regretful tone in his voice. "I fucked up. I didn't mean to make you so damn upset. I just wanted you to feel as bad as I did when I found out you were dead. But everyone's right, I shouldn't have done it. I didn't think it through."

Rick's only response was to give him an unimpressed glare as he continued playing; he'd already explained his thoughts and didn't want to repeat himself.

"I didn't mean for it to go the way it did. I get that I deserve your anger, but don't let this be the thing that ruins our friendship, bro." Surgeon Rick hated apologies because he'd never been any good at them, but he kept going in the hope that it would do something. "You're different. You're better than most other Ricks and like, you're the only one who ever bothered sticking your neck out for us. Nobody does that for low-tier trash Ricks, buddy... nobody. That means something to me and I'm not gonna forget it. I wish I could take back what I said but I can't, and I don't know what else to do. I-I'm sorry dude, it's never gonna happen again."

Rick glared even harder. "It better not."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Surgeon Rick's eyes darted around the room as if looking for an escape. "So I know having another drinking buddy is off the table now, but we still could've hung out and stuff. I don't want you holding this over my head forever, man... I feel bad about it. We're gonna be cool again soon, right?"

"Maybe." Rick considered the idea for a moment. "I'd be more inclined to let it go if you can get me something better than all this fucking ice-cream and sloppy semi-liquid oatmeal bullshit you've been trying to feed me for the last couple of days."

Surgeon Rick found himself dumbly staring; it was such a simple request that he couldn't tell he was being serious or not. As Rick look back at him, an unspoken understanding passed between them, and even though the scientist was still clearly annoyed, he gave a short nod as if to indicate that he'd accepted and forgiven what had happened.

"Don't fuck with me again." Rick was the first one to break eye contact this time, deciding that his improvised music was more important. "That goes for both of you... and don't think I'm gonna forget that you were both in on it. You're as bad as each other!"

"Yeah, I know, right? I can't make any promises, but I'll try to make the next one funnier." Surgeon Rick offered with a small hopeful grin. "Yo, who said you could touch my guitar? You probably fucked with the strings and everything!"

Rick flattened his brow as if issuing him a challenge. "You want it? Come get it back."

"Um... uh, n-no thanks." The surgeon took a step back, not knowing if it was too soon to be trying to have fun with him again. "You, uh... you want pancakes?" He offered instead, then glanced at his ex-boss to ask for permission.

"I don't care." Ricktus gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "If it works, it works."

"Pancakes sounds amazing," Rick agreed, "but hold the ice-cream."

* * *

With each passing day, Rick's physical strength slowly returned. He could stay on his feet for longer periods of time than before, but the dull ache in his right side still remained, even with pain medication; the other Ricks informed him that it was because he was still healing up. Although it made sense, it still annoyed and frustrated him.

As he sat on his bed and watched the TV he'd been given, he kept Morty entertained by giving him books to chew on. It was then that he noticed that his vision had sharpened up considerably; he'd gotten used to the blurriness due to always being tipsy or drunk, but the clarity he was experiencing right now was almost jarring; it was like he had perfect 20/20 vision. He focused his gaze on the ceiling and at various objects around the garage to test it out, then settled back on the TV, not sure how to feel about the discovery; he couldn't tell if he could see so well because he'd genuinely forgotten what it was like to be sober, or if they'd done something to his eyesight while he'd been out of it.

He also didn't know why he hadn't noticed it before.

He was distracted from his thoughts when Surgeon Rick came in looking for him. "Yo, my brother, what's up? You know you can come hang with the family any time you want, right? Don't feel like you gotta stay here now that you're good enough to move around." He paused when the screen caught his attention. "Ooh, what are you watching?"

"That Doesn't Fit In There'," Rick answered and grabbed the remote to turn up the volume. "You wanna watch? This may be the greatest thing I've ever seen."

"Aw shit dawg, what did I tell ya?! Is it awesome or what?!" Surgeon Rick quickly realized what he was looking at and turned his head away. "Damn, I haven't seen this episode... I'm like a whole two weeks behind, so I gotta catch up and watch the reruns later."

"I'm not certain if you have to." Rick frowned. "The show doesn't look like it has an ongoing sequential plot between episodes. From what I've seen so far, i-it's mostly comprised of one-off clips jammed together with half-assed segues, and the only common theme is that something doesn't fit into something else."

"Dude, spoilers!"

"Suit yourself." Rick changed the channel and handed the remote to Morty to play with. "So did you come in for a reason, or are you here to annoy me?"

"Both." Surgeon Rick gave him a wide toothy grin. "You missed my earlier cue, so I'll be more blunt this time - get the fuck outta here. My boss has some shit waiting for you in the next room."

"You should have said so in the first place, dipshit." Rick grumbled as he carefully maneuvered himself off the bed. "Why did you make me talk about some dumb d-dumb... a stupid TV show you like?"

"I wanted to make conversation and hear your opinion. Now shut up and get out there, bro! You'll wanna see it, trust me."

"I doubt it..." Rick muttered under his breath as picked up Morty and wandered out the door. In the living room, he found Ricktus seated with the rest of with Surgeon Rick's family, and he was casually going over Morty's development issues like they were nothing.

"Like I said, I've seen this kind of language delay before, but it's nothing to worry about. If he has normal intelligence, he'll expand his vocabulary in his own time. Just keep an eye on it and..." When the doctor heard the other approaching, he stopped and stood up. "Ah, there you are. How are you feeling?"

Rick bared his teeth. "How do you think I feel? I'm SO tired of that fucking question and I'd appreciate it if you never ask me that again!"

"My, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the multiverse this morning." Ricktus spoke in a mildly condescending tone. "You should be happy, B-526. I'm going to sign the documentation to release you from my care."

"Y-you... you are?" Rick's anger evaporated. "Why?"

"I'm staying true to my word for a start. You can also have your stuff back." The other took the scientist's possessions out of his pockets and began to lay them across the coffee table; first his portal gun, a datapad, another slightly larger handheld device that looked suspiciously like a laptop computer, and his gold pin. "You're clearly ready for it if your energetic attitude is anything to go by. You'll have to take it easy for the next six weeks, and you'll want to come back and see me in another ten days to get your sutures removed. I advise against living on your own until you've made a complete recovery, but this is it – you're someone else's problem now."

"Aw yeah, you made it!" Surgeon Rick came up from behind and gave him a not-so-gentle slap on the back. "Go see Riq IV as soon as you can, bro. He specifically told us he wanted you back at the Citadel, and he hates to be kept waiting if you know what I mean. He probably has important stuff for you to do now that you're his responsibility."

"Yeah, that's not happening." Rick's eyes were glued to gold pin and one eyebrow dipped in curiosity. "Ah, you finally got your stupid golden boy scout badge? Well, good for you, I guess."

"Actually..." The doctor's tone had turned cautious; he didn't know what kind of reaction he was about to receive. "It's yours."

Rick lowered his other brow and his expression became suspicious. "Wait a second... is this another one of your stupid pranks? Because it better not be!"


	31. Gold Star Rickommendation

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** I don't own the original IP. Come on, we're 31 chapters into it now. Go buy the official crap and support the official release and stuff.

 **NOTE:** Thank you to my wonderful beta reader, Unlvcrjchick (both here on FF.n and Tumblr) for absolutely FLYING through this chapter before publish. Also thank you for updating the earlier chapters and finally making this insane project halfway readable, haha. I honestly cannot thank you enough for all your hard work!

* * *

 **Chapter 31 – Gold Star Rickommendation  
**

 **December 13th, 10:06am PST, 2001  
Suburbia, Smith-Sanchez Family Household  
** **Earth, Dimension C-711**

* * *

Rick glared at the others around him, waiting for some kind of indication that they were kidding. When nothing happened, it only raised his suspicions further. "Well?! Don't just stand there like a couple of fools. Say something!"

"It's not a prank, bro. Not this time." Surgeon Rick was the first one to speak. "The big boss awarded that gold pin to you while you were still unconscious in the Citadel infirmary. That's why you gotta go back and see him... he plans to publicly congratulate you for blowing shit up and saving Citadel secrets from falling into the Federation's hands. He also probably wants to invite you to be part of some exclusive high-rank bullcrap... maybe? I dunno, I'm just speculating on that part. Either way, he must've forgotten that one time you threw the huge temper tantrum and basically told him to go eff himself."

"I think he has the capacity to overlook that considering recent events, but no, this isn't another one of C-711's silly pranks. I doubt he has the cojones to pull another one on you so soon." As Ricktus commented, it was clear that he was still wary and on-edge. "That badge is yours to keep, sir. One of our instructions from Riq IV was to give it to you and to make sure you understand its importance. I thought you should know before you go back to the Citadel. It would seem that the arrival of the 'Rickest Rick' has attracted quite the crowd."

Rick could feel himself slipping back into a bad mood.

"Furthermore," the doctor added, his tone becoming serious and formal, "if you wish to retroactively punish me for everything I've ever done to you, then I would understand. You have the authority to do as you see fit with us, but I would ask that you keep C-711 out of it. I'm the Rick you want, not him."

Rick made a loud dismissive sound. "And why the hell would I wanna do that?"

"What?" Ricktus raised a brow in his confusion. "Really...?"

"You want me to tell you what to do?" The scientist was frustrated that he even had to bother explaining it and raised his voice. "I've never liked it, so why would I do it to anyone else? Do you have ANY idea how fucking hypocritical that would make me?!"

"Whoa, watch your language, bro!" Surgeon Rick yelped. "Not in front of the grandkids!"

"Ugh, fine..." Rick growled at him, then resumed talking to the doctor. "Look, the only thing I've ever told you both is to stop letting yourselves be pushed around and to stop taking crap from other people. I'm gonna keep standing by that too, because just watching you makes me embarrassed to be myself."

"Are you sure you don't want to punish me for inconveniencing you and making you sick?" Ricktus questioned, not believing a word of what he was hearing. "But you've been holding a grudge against me since the day we met, and you seem to enjoy reminding me of my mistakes at every given opportunity. I would've thought you'd jump at the chance to use your new rank as an excuse to reprimand me."

"Well, you thought wrong!" Rick hissed back. "What would that achieve anyway? It's not gonna change anything. I didn't appreciate being your guinea pig and some of your methods were bullshit, but if you know what to do differently the next time this same kind of sickness comes up, then I'm willing to let it go." He paused deliberately to let the other take it in. "I know it's hard to believe because it almost never happens, but yeah, we make mistakes. I've made more than I care to remember, and one of them cost me everything. You're lucky you can come back from yours. I can't come back from mine."

Ricktus disagreed entirely; he could see no possible way of turning his situation around without his ship or a source of income, but he also didn't want to argue in case the scientist changed his mind about punishing him. "Yes, sir. I will do more research next time."

"You could also try listening to your peers for once," the suggestion was a serious one, but it was spoken in a sarcastic tone. "Your assistant is an idiot, but his opinions are as valid as your own. Sometimes you need another mind to bounce your ideas off of."

The other slowly nodded his head. "That's no longer going to be a problem, sir."

"Try actually listening to me as well. We could have prevented SO much stupidity if you'd only reasoned through what I was telling you instead of reacting to what you saw."

"I will never question your judgment again, sir." The doctor looked away uncomfortably. "A word of advice for the future... next time you decide to retrieve a live Rick from his native dimension, get him to safety as quickly as you can. Rick D-491 survived because of your quick thinking and leadership skills, but Rick C-139 died because you let him out of your sight. You may not have directly killed him, but it was an amateur mistake to make."

"Mistakes have been made on both sides," Rick returned through gritted teeth. "Now get over it and don't ever call me 'sir' again. I-I'm not your superior."

"Um... Dads?" Lizabeth spoke up, finding herself nervous in the rising hostilities. "Do you need us to step out? This sounds like it should be a private conversation."

Rick gave her a dismissive shrug. "Nah, it's your house. Do whatever you want." He held Morty securely in one arm as he carefully bent down to pick up his portal gun by the handle. "I'm leaving."

"Aww man, you are?" Surgeon Rick made no effort to hide his disappointment. "Can we still hang out some time?"

"Yeah, sure, buddy." Rick sounded casually disinterested by the idea; he didn't want to appear too keen, but didn't want to wave him off either. "You know how to find me. Just use the same technique your boss used when he wanted to capture me."

Surgeon Rick didn't know whether it was appropriate to laugh or not, so he picked up the gold pin instead and held it out for him to take. "Don't forget this, bro."

"I don't want it."

"Huh?" It was the surgeon's turn to look confused. "But this thing gives you a free pass to do anything with the Council's blessing. You'd be able to command entire legions of Ricks and help influence new Citadel policy. You'd get an awesome luxury apartment on the Citadel spire and your only bosses would be the Council themselves. Why wouldn't you want it?"

"Because I don't need a shiny pin to do whatever I want!" Rick retorted. "I already told them I wanted nothing to do with their stupid fake hierarchy the last time I was there and nothing's changed. No matter how much you polish a turd, it still smells like shit."

"You sure you don't want it?" Surgeon Rick began to spin it in his fingers. "But it's like, the ultimate piece of cred. Some Ricks will spend the rest of their lives trying to earn one. You'd have to be crazy not to take it."

"Do I even need to say anything about that?" Rick plucked it from his grasp and tossed it towards the doctor. "Here, you're the one who wanted it so bad. You keep it."

"It doesn't work like that." Ricktus fumbled as he caught it and frowned with discontentment; as he held it in his hands, he realized that this was probably the closest he'd ever get to owning one. "It can't be traded, sold, bartered, auctioned, or given away. It has to be earned and I've done nothing worthy of such a commendation, but you... you always knew what was best for us. You risked everything to save my ass, our asses, and maybe all our collective asses from total annihilation."

"Is that all?" Rick matched his expression. "Phh... big deal."

"Actually, it is," the other countered. "You've always known what to do. Even when we questioned you, even when you were locked up and threatened with never seeing your Morty again, you always knew the best decision to make, even when it seemed wrong." He offered the gold pin back to him. "I can see now why the Council chose you and that's why you need to take this. We'd all be dead without you."

"Oh, for... cut it out!" Rick grumbled in annoyance. "It may have looked that way from your perspective, but I assure you, my decisions are no better or worse than any other Rick's. You're more than capable of doing the same thing, because you ARE me."

"I'm lesser than you," Ricktus politely reminded him, "and don't be so modest. All the decisions you've ever made place you at the apex of the central finite curve, which means you're literally our best self." He thrust the gold pin at him again, practically demanding that he take it. "The Citadel is waiting for you, B-526. There's a whole multiverse of Ricks that need your leadership and guidance."

"I told you, I don't want it!" Rick swatted it away with his free hand. "Do I have to go there and tell the Council myself?!"

"Aww man, can we be there when you do? Please? Can we?!" Surgeon Rick suddenly spoke up, sounding more like an excited child than the grown man he was supposed to be. "I wanna see you tell them off so bad! The dumb assholes have it coming to them after the way they treated us."

Rick's mouth set in a hard line. "What did they do to you?"

"Us," the surgeon quickly corrected him. "You already know the business with the Council dragging us into the office and voting to banish us, but that was done because the ship and computers got blown up, and you got sick and all that. Even though it was your idea, we got in trouble for it. I followed everyone's orders like I was supposed to, but I'm 'incompetent by association'." He made air-quotes with his fingers. "Their words exactly."

"Wait... so they're punishing you for the same stuff they're commending me for?"

Ricktus nodded in agreement. "That assessment is accurate, yes."

"That's so dumb I don't even know where to begin..." Rick felt a surge of anger rise up within him at the injustice, but concealed it behind a sour expression; he still hadn't gotten over the prank they had played on him earlier. As much as he wanted to comment further, he knew there was nothing useful to be gained, so he turned away and motioned towards the front door. "Well, uh... there's nothing more to do here. I can see myself out."

Lizabeth sprang to her feet at the words; she'd been paying attention to the whole conversation. "At least let me say goodbye. I'm going to miss you all very much."

Rick opened his mouth to object, then thought better of it and rolled his eyes; there was no real harm in fulfilling her request. "Fine."

Ten minutes later, Rick was back in his normal clothes and the Smith-Sanchez family was standing on the snow-dusted driveway outside the front of their house along with the other Ricks who had come into Dimension C-711. As the scientist came out to stand with them, he was given looks varying from amusement to respect, to something near contempt from Jerry; he was obviously glad to see them all go. Meanwhile, Ricktus's expression was guarded as he kept himself distracted with a stack of paperwork, and although it was impossible to guess exactly what he was feeling, Rick could tell he wasn't happy with the situation.

Although it intrigued him to know why, he quickly decided that leaving was more important and took out his portal gun. "So you really want me to tell off the Council of Ricks?"

"Hell yeah, bro!" Surgeon Rick enthusiastically whooped and thrust a fist into the air. "Give 'em your worst!"

Rick made a soft sound of amusement as he fiddled with the dial, then realized he didn't have the coordinate stored in the device's memory. "Here, you do it." He tossed it at the surgeon.

"On it, sir!" Surgeon Rick wasted no time catching it and punching in the correct information. "If you wanna stay on at the Citadel, you're gonna like it there. Your apartment ain't the best it could be, but it's cozy and you'll get a better one before long."

"Stop that! I already told you I don't want the stupid gold pin or anything that goes with it, a-and don't YOU start calling me 'sir' either!" Rick grumpily told him off. "I haven't decided where I'm going after this, but I'm not staying there... I'd go back to Bird World and crash on Birdperson's couch until I'm all healed up, but he probably left for the resistance by now." He paused in thought and frowned. "What happened with that anyway? Does he know I'm still alive?"

"He does." Ricktus answered with a short nod of his head but did not look up from his reading material. "In exchange for taking your Morty back into our care, I allowed him to visit while you were still in recovery. It's a story of its own and I can fill you in on the way to Riq IV's office if you wish."

"Yeah, whatever." Rick folded his arms. "Just get me outta here."

"Can do!" Surgeon Rick fired a portal at the space six feet in front of them. "After you, boss."

"Don't call me that either." As the scientist moved to stand in front of the portal, he hesitated; Surgeon Rick's family was still standing there and closely watching him. He gave a soft sigh of resignation and turned towards Lizabeth to give her what she wanted. "Thanks for putting me up here for a while, and thanks for taking care of Morty where I couldn't and, u-uh..." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly; he'd always been bad at goodbyes.

There was an uncomfortable silence just like there had been on the arrival, but Lizabeth would break it this time as she moved closer to him. "No, thank you," she quickly returned, "thanks for bringing my dad back to us. I don't think he would have come here if it wasn't for you."

"Hey, don't give me any credit. I didn't have a say in coming here." Rick scowled. "All I did was pressure him into talking to you. He did the rest all on his own."

"Well it worked, and it was because of you." Lizabeth insisted. "Thank you for everything you've done for us."

Without warning, the blonde-haired woman closed the rest of the distance between them and pulled him in for a firm, yet gentle hug. Rick reflexively tensed up at first; he'd always hated the tight, closed-in feelings associated with them, even if they were from close friends or family. As he slowly relaxed and tentatively eased into it, he actually found it soothing - it had been far too long since he'd received a hug quite like this one.

However, the moment was quickly ruined as he was once again reminded of his own daughter's demise. But there were no tears left to cry about it anymore; there was only the gaping void she had left behind and a burning desire to take revenge for her life.

No matter how much he wanted to stuff it down or drown it out, he knew that nothing would erase the fact that he missed his family with a ferocity that threatened to consume him, and that he badly wanted them back; he would even tolerate Jerry's presence again if he had to. He also knew that there would be no moving on or changing anything, even if he did seek out and murder every last member of the Galactic Federation in his home dimension.

Lizabeth must have sensed his inner turmoil, because she let go, stepped back again, and tried to turn it around by offering him some positive parting words. "You have to take care of yourselves now, do you hear me? You're all you've got."

Rick's expression hardened and he said nothing as he picked Morty up; he was suddenly keen to leave.

"I mean it. It's just you and him against the world now. Don't let anyone tear you apart." Lizabeth nodded in the little boy's direction. "If he ever misses his mother or wants to meet his parents someday, then bring him back here... I'm happy to play the part. I know what it's like to lose my mother and nobody should ever have to go through that."

Jerry chimed in and tried to help. "Yeah, there's no substitute for his real parents, but surely a grandparent has gotta be a good backup, right?" He made a soft awkward laugh. "So long as you're not a drug addict, too-"

"Whoa, it's time to stop!" Surgeon Rick abruptly shoved his way in between them. "He doesn't need a pep talk, guys. You're being super inappropriate and weird, and besides, you can't just offer that kind of stuff to people."

Lizabeth blinked in confusion. "Why not?"

"Because it's freakin' me out, that's why!" Surgeon Rick huffed in annoyance. "Let us worry about him, kid. Anyway, where's MY goodbye?"

"Oh be quiet, Dad." She teasingly punched him in the arm. "When are you coming back to visit?"

"I'm not so sure. I already told you the multiverse is a dangerous place and nothing is ever gonna change it. I'll come back for a little while here and there when I can, but you're better off without me."

Jerry seemed pleased with the information and gave the surgeon a smug grin. "It's good to see you getting along with Beth again, Rick. This might be a new beginning for you."

"Wow, that's... unusually nice coming from you." Surgeon Rick's brow dipped in suspicion. "I'm glad she could fill you in."

"She did." Jerry nodded. "It's Beth's decision and I need to respect it, even if I think it's wrong. I'm gonna need more time before I can move on and believe you've changed for the better."

"Oh geez, here we go again..." The surgeon grumbled in discontentment. "Look, Jerry, I'm gonna be level with ya - I'm already serving a life sentence for what I've done and no amount of good behavior is ever gonna fix it. That's on me, but I don't need to prove anything to you, OK? L-let's just agree to go our separate ways and fake getting along for my daughter's peace of mind."

"You know, I can hear you!" Lizabeth cut across the conversation. "Cut it out, guys!"

Jerry didn't seem to hear her. "Hopefully you won't be so self-destructive now that you have another chance, Rick. It could be your last. Don't blow it this time."

"You know, Jerry... if you wanna move on from something, you can't keep throwing it back at them like that." Surgeon Rick folded his arms and began to tap his left foot in agitation. "In psychology, we commonly refer to that phenomenon as 'being a dick'. I might even call it-HURRRK!"

He never finished his sentence; Lizabeth had tightly hugged him around the neck in order to shut him up.

"I'm going to choke you if you keep fighting with him, Dad." Despite her smile, she was being serious. "Both of you need to start getting along for real if we want to be a family again. Don't let your pride ruin a perfectly good goodbye."

"I wasn't the one who ruined it, sweetie..." Surgeon Rick muttered back through gritted teeth.

"Cut it out, Dad." Lizabeth's tone grew into a stern warning. "I mean it this time."

One of the Guard Ricks looked up from his communication device, impatiently glanced at the open portal, then turned his attention towards Rick. "We should get a move on, sir. Uh, boss... bro... dude? Whatever. I took the liberty of informing Riq IV of your arrival and he has extended an invitation for you to visit his private chambers right away."

Although Rick was deeply annoyed with the guard for doing it without his knowledge or consent, he nodded; it meant getting out of there. "Great. Let's get this over with."

As Lizabeth let go of her father again, her smile was bittersweet; she was glad they'd made progress in repairing their fractured relationship, but now she felt like he was leaving far too soon. "You ARE coming back, right?" She grabbed his arm and pulled on it to stall him a little longer. "Can we go to family therapy together? I think we'd really benefit from it if I booked an appointment. When is a good time for you?"

"Uh, never? I think I'd rather watch the rest of that Adam Sandler movie marathon." Surgeon Rick gently pried her off. "Buzz off, kid, I got a job to get back to."

"I doubt it," Ricktus bitterly interjected. "After we hand B-526 over, what happens to us? You can return to your dumb surgical gig at the infirmary I suppose, but about me? Ricktiminus Sancheziminius said he would find something for us to do in the long-term, but I don't want to sit around doing nothing while I wait for him to decide."

"Think of it as that vacation time you wanted." Surgeon Rick mused and motioned a hand at the nearest guard. "Things could always be worse, boss. For instance, you could be one of these guys."

"Hey! Fuck me, pal!" The Guard Rick nearest the portal snapped back and aimed his rifle at him. "Say that again, I dare you!"

Surgeon Rick flashed him a cocky grin as if issuing a challenge. "You dare me, huh? That's cool, but what do I get if I win?"

The other Guard Rick rolled his eyes at the childish bickering. "I suggest you shut up and move your asses. Don't keep the big guy waiting unless you want to see his bad temper firsthand."

"Already seen it and it's nothin' to brag about," Surgeon Rick replied. "I could do better if I tried."

Although Lizabeth didn't like what was happening, she gave a resigning sigh and walked towards the doctor with outstretched arms. "Well, I know you put in as much work as my father did and you deserve my thanks. Get in here."

Ricktus stared back and raised a hand up to stop her. "What are you doing?"

The blonde was suddenly embarrassed and a little hurt by his rejection. "You looked like you could do with a hug..." Her hands dropped to her sides again.

"Oh wow, NO. No thank you." Ricktus deeply frowned and shook his head. "Boy, did you read that wrong."

The guard was actively harassing Surgeon Rick by poking him with the butt of his rifle now, so Rick knew it was time to go. However, as soon as he got within four feet of the open portal, Morty desperately clambered over his shoulder, reached out for his 'mother', and gave a shrill cry of alarm; he knew the portal would take him elsewhere, which meant being taken away from her.

It made Rick stop in his tracks; he wanted to leave but Morty obviously didn't and now they were at an impasse.

"Settle down there, little buddy... y-you're making a scene." He told him in a firm, yet soft voice. "Nobody wants to hear that kind of noise, do you understand me? Nobody."

Morty wasn't listening; he was too busy screaming. Most of it was nonsense, but then two words from his limited vocabulary managed to break through. "Nnn-NOO! Mm-mommy!"

It was a new word that he hadn't heard from him before, but there were too many complex feelings and thoughts running through his head to praise him this time. Rick gave a soft sigh, bent over with considerable effort, and set the youngster on the ground so he could seek out what he so desperately wanted. As he watched his grandson hastily toddle away to hug Lizabeth's legs in the same way he would have done to him, he gave a subtle nod in acceptance; this was just Morty telling him what he wanted, only this time it was blatant. It made him feel like a fool for thinking that he would choose his grandfather over his own mother, but maybe it was better that way; Morty deserved a normal life with a proper family, after all.

So much for the preferential bias he had shown earlier.

"I-it looks like I'm gonna have to take you up on your offer," Rick quietly admitted. "Send your work schedule to your father and we'll go from there. Or..." He trailed off and became silent as he considered possible solutions.

Rick was the very definition of a vagabond; he was more than used to drifting through space wherever adventure or whim would take him. However, Morty clearly needed something more stable and secure; somewhere where he could settle into a routine and a fixed environment in which he could feel safe. Although he likely had one during his time with Surgeon Rick's family in Dimension C-711, he needed something more permanent.

"...I-I could leave him here if he wants." He quietly suggested.

"Dude, what?! Are you fucking NUTS?!" Surgeon Rick forgot all about the guard and keeping his language in check around his family. "Don't do it, bro... you're gonna come undone. We just got him back for you, a-and we don't need another Morty. You can't just leave him here after all you've been through! The minute you're out of his sight, he's gonna cry for you all over again. Do you want that, bro? Do you?!"

"Well, no-"

"Then think of something else, 'cause it's a shitty idea!"

"It's the best one I've got," Rick muttered half to himself, his mind working hard on other options. "They could adopt him as a twin."

"Phh, no way, man." Surgeon Rick immediately disagreed. "Lizabeth already has too much on her plate as it is, and you haven't even asked if she wants another kid or not. It's a dumb idea... both of them would be called 'Morty'."

"This IS Jerry's kid we're talking about."

"Granted," the surgeon conceded, "but no. Think of something else. You're smart, you'll figure it out."

As Lizabeth listened to them, she felt compelled to share her own thoughts. "It wouldn't work on a permanent basis. Morty is already 18 months old and people will get suspicious if we had another child materialize out of thin air. Jerry's parents would definitely have something to say about it, and so would the neighbors, my work colleagues, his daycare... the police might get involved, too."

"Yeah, how would we explain another baby to the government? Beth doesn't look pregnant. She doesn't even look fat." Jerry laughed awkwardly.

All eyes were on him; nobody else found it funny.

All it took was for Rick to make another step towards the swirling green vortex and Morty decided he didn't want to be left behind. As the little boy ran back and adhered himself to his leg again, the scientist realized that even Morty didn't know what he wanted.

Whatever they did, it seemed like they would both benefit from some quiet time; it felt like they'd crammed a whole lifetime into the last couple of weeks. They both needed time to heal, and in more ways than one.

"Ugh, whatever!" The scientist suddenly snapped, frustrated and overwhelmed by it all. "I'm outta here." He dragged one foot with the little boy still attached as he went through the portal.

Ricktus gave a small wave and pivoted on his heels, taking it as a cue to make his escape; this wasn't his dimension or his problem to deal with, and it didn't worry him if he never saw them again.

"Well, I gotta go, sweetie. Take care of the grandkids for me." Surgeon Rick lingered behind the rest of the group. "Hopefully next time I visit, they can actually get to know who I am."

The blonde-haired woman nodded guiltily. "Dad? Wait up... I can't let you go without saying this - come back if you're not feeling well. We can work through it together next time."

"That's a nice thought, but you don't wanna have to deal with that noise all over again, trust me. You don't have to worry about me," he glanced at the open portal, "I got people watchin' my back now."

"OK," Lizabeth's shoulders sank in defeat. "Bye, Dad..."

"Cheer up, kid. I promise I'll be back someday, and I'm real proud to be your father." He tried to assure her. "You don't take no crap from nobody and it's your best quality. And Jerry? Um... fuck you again for getting my daughter pregnant. Later, turds."

Jerry couldn't even say anything in his defense; the older man was already gone.

* * *

 **December 13th, 11:27am Citadel Time, 2001  
** **Cross-Temporal Rift Nebula, Location Classified  
** **Citadel Of Ricks, Dimension Number Classified**

* * *

The Citadel entrance hallway was nothing like he remembered it as he came through the other side of the portal this time. Ahead of him, Rick could see a long line of different Ricks that stretched from near where he was standing and went all the way to the front; they were obviously waiting to go inside. Members from the Citadel's medical team had been dispatched to the area to triage the injured and sick, while heavily armed Guard Ricks patrolled back and forth to keep order and prevent fights from breaking out.

As he stood back to take it in, it reminded him of a customs-arrival gate more than anything else. Meanwhile, Morty's reaction was to scoot between his legs and hide in the tail of his lab coat, overwhelmed by the sight of so many grandpas.

One of his assigned Guard Ricks picked the little boy up and handed him over so Rick wouldn't have to bend down again. "Sir, you shouldn't linger here. We have strict orders to get you to the front as quickly as possible. If you're ready, then take out your badge and we'll escort you up to Riq IV's office."

"Oh great, not again... this is even worse than the last time we were here!" Rick could hear one of the others openly complaining somewhere behind him. "Speed up your processing time, morons!"

"Settle down, bro." Another far-more-relaxed voice instructed him; he could easily guess that it was Surgeon Rick's. "We got connections now. We should abuse 'em."

"In the short term, maybe, but we shouldn't have to. The real problem needs to be addressed as soon as possible." Ricktus frowned as his gaze drifted down the line to one of the Ricks, who was nursing a bleeding eye. "More and more of us keep arriving every day and the infirmary is going to have a hard time keeping up if it continues. Some of them need treatment... urgently."

"Are you offering, boss?" Surgeon Rick asked jokingly, a wide grin growing across his face. "You DID say you needed a new job."

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that? I fired you!" The doctor grumpily reminded him. "Anyway, isn't that up for Sancheziminius to decide?"

"We're wasting time, sir." The Guard Rick impatiently prompted. "Some of these newcomers have infectious diseases and Riq IV wants to limit your exposure. You wouldn't want to come down with a nasty case of space flu, now would you?"

"Do you have permission to murder people or is this just for show?" Surgeon Rick casually grabbed the barrel of the guard's rifle and gave it a good shake. "Lead the way, gopher."

The guard sighed in irritation, but retained his military demeanor and pointed to Rick. "My orders are only for him."

"They're with me." Rick stated it like it was obvious, and it was; although they'd only captured him a little over two weeks ago, it felt like it had been much longer, and he was getting used to having them around.

"But, sir-"

"They're with me!" The scientist barked over the top of the guard with such force that it made him jump and stiffen in posture; as much as he hated the idea of bossing him around, it felt good to finally get his own way for once.

Once the group had started moving, they were at the front in almost no time at all; all it took was for Ricktus to hold up the gold badge and the other Ricks darted out of the way like they were members of the Council themselves.

The situation inside was similar and the ground floor of the Citadel was bustling with a semi-organized chaos; a large crowd of different-looking Ricks strolled across the concourse in small groups or by themselves. High above, a large team of construction-crew Ricks were busy welding giant steel beams in place to make the framework for new buildings, while others waited for the delivery of new materials so they could begin their own building work.

Without any warning at all, a whole new wing was suddenly teleported into position at the far end of the concourse and more of the construction crew practically pounced on it and began welding it to the existing structure; the Citadel of Ricks was literally growing right before their very eyes.

"Holy shit," Surgeon Rick slowed behind the rest of the group and whistled impressively. "That is gonna be one serious upgrade... how many new Ricks is the Council expecting to show up?"

"It's impossible to say. Maybe a few thousand?" One of the guards guessed with a shrug of his shoulders. "The Council fears that the sudden influx of new arrivals is going to place a heavy strain on local resources, and that number is expected to climb into the millions over the next ten years, so an emergency-expansion project is underway. The Citadel is gonna need more Ricks in every area of employment, so now is a great time to lodge a work application or start a new research project."

"Knowing our history, we would still probably be denied..." Ricktus bitterly muttered aloud to himself.

The guards hastily ushered the group through the crowd and avoided eye contact; the last thing they wanted was to be slowed down or questioned about the Rick they were assigned to protect and watch over. By the time they were outside Riq IV's door, Rick was painfully reminded of his physical limitations; even though he'd barely walked a few-hundred yards, he was quite out of breath and his still-recovering body was hurting in protest to doing so much so soon.

It also ruined his mood and considerably shortened his temper.

"Don't... d-don't expect me to thank you for getting me here..." As he growled at the guards, it was easy to tell how worn out he was. "A-are you... g-going to follow me everywhere I go?"

"Yes," one of the guards nodded without hesitation. "We're allowed to keep a perimeter of privacy where requested, but we're in your servitude until our death, or until Riq IV directs us otherwise. Whichever comes first."

"Wait... a-a perimeter of privacy?" Rick narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means we don't have to be in the bathroom with you while you shower or take a shit." The guard answered with no humor in his tone. "But we are required to stand watch outside the door."

"F-fucking great... I-I didn't sign up for this!" Rick sputtered back, feeling himself becoming even more riled up. "How do I make you all go away?!"

"That would be up to the big boss, sir." The other Guard Rick told him candidly. "But I strongly suggest taking a breather before you go in and see him."

"Yeah, dude, you don't look so hot." Surgeon Rick agreed. "Do you wanna sit down and rest first? One of us can go grab you some water."

"I-I'm fine," Rick hissed as he pushed past them and opened the door. "Whiskey would be better..."

Inside Riq IV's private chambers, Riq IV, Quantum Rick, and Ricktiminus Sancheziminius were all seated around the oval-shaped table in the middle of the room and were busy going over more details of the Citadel-expansion project as well as housing plans for the expected population increase. The three councilmen looked up when the group of five came into the room, and then they slowly rose to their feet.

Riq IV was the first to move towards the new arrivals and spread his arms open wide in greeting. "Ah, there you are at last!" Although he spoke with genuine enthusiasm, the too-wide friendly grin across his face was forced. "So good of you to join us."

"Listen here, you pointy-haired prick," Rick found his strength and moved in so close that their noses were almost touching. "There IS NO 'us'. I'm not joining your dumb Citadel and I told you that the last time I was here. And trying to bribe me with a stupid gold badge?! How dare you think that I could be won over with a stupid piece of shiny metal and the preferential treatment that goes with it!"

Riq IV's grin disappeared, but he did not move an inch; being openly disrespected was not something he took lightly. "I would have hoped you'd see reason now that you've been given ample time to rethink your opinion of the Citadel."

"Reason? There is no reasoning with you about anything reasonable, and why would my opinion change?!" Rick gave him a sharp, aggressive shove in the chest with his free hand and stepped back out of his personal space again. "If anything, I'm even LESS interested in being here than I was before, and if you think you're gonna reward me for the same bullshit story you're punishing these other hopeless Ricks for, then you can go to hell!"

Riq IV's brow flattened as low as he could make it go. "Your behavior is completely unacceptable. No other Rick would ever dare speak to me this way, not even my own Council. Stand down and calm yourself at once!"

"N-not this time, asshole!" Rick shot back. "Do you think what you're doing is acceptable? Your organization is basically a bully that subjugates the ones who can't stand up to you, and you try recruiting the ones who can. Fuck your Citadel and your damn dictatorship!" He thrust a pointed finger in the direction of the other two councilmen. "And don't think that either of you are any better. Fuck you and you for enabling this shit!" He turned to face the guards. "Fuck you all especially! I don't want any of you following me around everywhere, i-it's downright creepy!"

"Settle," Riq IV's tone became a warning. "I will not tell you again."

"Fuck you in particular!" Rick whipped back towards him with bared teeth. "How the hell are you still in power? Why aren't there more Ricks who feel the same way I do, and why hasn't anyone assassinated you yet?!"

There was a loud clatter as all the Guard Ricks reached for their rifles at the same time and took aim at the scientist, including the two that had been assigned to him. Morty made a loud whimper in fear and buried his face into his grandfather's neck, trying to hide from it all.

Rick wasn't in the least bit fazed; he'd been threatened by much worse. "Relax, d-bags, I'm just being loud and hypothesizing." He gave Morty a few gentle, reassuring pats on the back to help keep him quiet. "Put those things away. You're scaring my grandson."

Riq IV felt so violated that he needed to brush the imaginary dirt off his robe. "You're lucky that's all you're doing... these guards wouldn't hesitate to take you out if I only gave the order. They would die for me if they had to."

"Phh, you honestly think a standing army is gonna save you?" Rick didn't know whether to laugh or yell at him for his arrogance. "If a Rick wants you dead bad enough, they'll find a way. Don't underestimate yourself, if you know what I mean."

When Riq IV furrowed his brows in a deep scowl, Rick matched his expression identically. As the two combatants locked eyes and glared at each other, it was clear that neither one was about to back down. After another moment of tense silence, the red-laser sights of the guard's rifles lit up on Rick's chest; they were serious about wanting to protect their leader.

"Hey, uh... bro?" Surgeon Rick uncomfortably cleared his throat. "I was super into it if you were gonna stick it to the man, but this is getting waaaay too intense for me. You might wanna stop with the threats. Just sayin'."

"Indeed," Ricktus nervously crumpled the medical records and discharge papers he was still holding as he watched on, not knowing what was about to happen; although he'd never seen the councilman have a Rick killed for insubordination, he didn't put it past him. "We've worked too long and hard patching you up just to watch you get shot again. You need to stand down, B-526."

Realizing that the situation was likely to get out of control if it were allowed to continue, Riq IV decided to shrug off the challenge to his authority in favor of trying another angle. "Gentlemen, please... this is becoming foolish. Nobody wants anyone to die today. Could we have the room to ourselves for five or ten minutes?" It was more of an order than a request.

"Ooh, someone's in trouble!" Rick taunted. "Oh wait, it's me... I don't know why I just said that."

One by one, the guards returned their rifles to their shoulders and marched out the door in single file. Ricktiminus Sancheziminius and Quantum Rick followed them, as did Surgeon Rick. However, Ricktus was far less comfortable with leaving his old charge alone with the Council leader and gave them both an apprehensive glance as he dropped Rick's medical documentation and discharge papers down on the table beside the rest of the plans.

"Is this a good idea?" He asked tentatively. "Not that it's any of my business, but-"

"Leave!" Riq IV icily cut him off.

Rick's eyes tracked the doctor as he scampered out like a scared rabbit, and it wasn't until after he was gone that he spoke again. "What gives? You come at me with a show of force and dominance, and now this? It doesn't matter whether you play hardball or nice, because the outcome is the same... I'm still not interested." He found himself feeling tense at not being able to guess what the other's next move could possibly be.

"Rick, settle down. I'm not even going to pretend to like you, but I am not your enemy." The Council leader dropped the high and mighty act he had been playing and shut the the door, locking it in the process. "You know as well as I that if there's any truth in the universe, it's that we can't stand ourselves. Nobody asked for any of this, including you. And yet, here we stand."

The scientist tilted his head as curiosity began taking over and he stared at the councilman. "So... you're gonna make me stand here and listen while you waste my time with talk?"

Riq IV gave a soft, amused huff as he moved away to stand at his window with both hands behind his back. "No." He shook his head, sounding even more calm than before. "Unlike last time, you are free to leave whenever you wish. You DO have the most interesting portal gun in the multiverse, after all."

"Wait... what?" Rick raised one eyebrow inquisitively; it seemed like he couldn't help himself. "What do you mean?"

"Although it was one of the reasons I gave the order to have you watched, Quantum Rick was also interested in seeing the blueprints from the moment you started designing your new portal gun. He was most fascinated by its intricate detail when he finally got to see it in person, which is a rarity for him." The Council leader almost sounded proud. "It truly is like no other... and the fact that you built it using only used parts and whatever garbage you had from your local surroundings is even more impressive."

"So? Just about everything I invent has been made out of garbage at one point or another." Rick shrugged off the compliment and took the opportunity to make a jab at the other's expense. "You should try it sometime, seeing as though you're king of the trash pile you've made for yourself."

Riq IV's left eyebrow twitched, but he contained his anger and continued with what he needed to say next. "We needed to modify your portal gun and install a self-destruct mechanism before it was returned to you, but it's a testament to the innovative thinking of Ricks like you. With your permission, we'd like to use elements of the design in our new standard-issue portal gun model here at the Citadel."

Rick was about to say something smug, but went silent for a moment as he actually considered the request seriously. "Uh, sure? It doesn't bother me, but stop it with the dick sucking there... i-it almost sounds like you're trying to pick me up, and I'm not sure how to feel about that." He paused to shoot the other a death glare. "You fucked with my portal gun?! Not cool!"

Riq IV slowly shook his head again and let out a grumpy sigh. "Relax. It has been registered to you and it now complies with all Citadel guidelines. You'll never get any trouble about it again."

"Great..." Rick huffed as his eyes darted back and forth between the Council leader and the door. "So, now that we've established I'm not taking your stupid gold badge, I am free to go, right? You're not gonna do something weird if I try leaving? Because I am SO over being chased, imprisoned, tied up, and coming under fire. I just wanna sit down, go through my grandson's issues, and catch a damn break for once."

Riq IV didn't answer immediately this time; he was too busy watching the activity on the concourse many levels below. When he did choose to speak, he didn't feel the need to repeat himself and asked a question of his own instead. "Do you truly find the Citadel that reprehensible? I'm sure you'd find some good in it if you only gave it a chance."

"I don't doubt that, but the shittiness far outweighs anything good that could ever come out of this place." Rick grumpily countered. "And don't even get me started on what I think of you. While I suppose it's comforting to know I have somewhere to crash whenever I want, what happens after that? Hiding out here isn't a good strategy... i-it isn't even a strategy at all!"

"We won't have to hide for long if we had you on our side." Riq IV gave him a sideways glance, his expression turning predatory. "I saw something in you the moment I gave the order to have you watched. I could have chosen any Rick I wanted, but I picked you because you were special. You're among the best of us. You keep pushing through everything that comes your way, no matter what, and you win every time. Are you going to tell me that I chose wrong?"

"Oh god, are you talking about that 'Rickest Rick' crap? It sounds statistically probable, but I highly doubt that it's me." Rick held back a laugh of mockery at the suggestion. "And what the hell? I win at everything? Um, hello, have you even SEEN my winning streak lately? Take one look at all the dumb shit that's happened to me recently and say that again, I dare you."

Riq IV only responded with a thoughtful hum.

"I mean, look at all the events that unfolded in my dimension, for a start... 'Destroyer Of Worlds'? Yeah right, maybe of my own. And if I'm meant to be the best version of myself, then the rest of them must be doing pretty poorly."

"They are," Riq IV nodded, and he wasn't kidding. "But they would be much better off if they had the right kind of Rick directing them. Why don't you come over here and take a look at all the Ricks you're letting down before you decide to leave?"

"That's not gonna work, bro. Making me feel bad about a bunch of imbeciles I've never met is kinda like dragging me through the pound and expecting me to feel sorry for all the hopeless schmucks on death row. Puppies are victims to their adorableness, just like Ricks are victims of their own intelligence. I say let it be and don't interfere – they're quite capable of dealing with their own problems. Let the Ricks fall where they may." Rick stated firmly, then came up to stand beside him if just to humor him. "Anyone who likes the idea of your dumb secret hideout is either stupid, or they don't know what they're getting themselves into until it's too late. And if they do stay on, they're only interested in what they can get out of it. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

The cold, unhumored expression came back over Riq IV's face. "You're wrong."

Morty was starting to fall asleep on his shoulder, but Rick was in too deep to leave now. "Oh yeah? How?"

"Rick, you've made it quite clear that you only see the Citadel as a farce and a cheap grab for power, but there are genuine Ricks here who want to work hard and contribute to the betterment of us all." Riq IV told him. "The Citadel's Commander-in-Chief wants nothing more than to make sure that peace and order are maintained, and that justice is dealt swiftly. The Ricks that brought you in are another example of loyalty and those who want to make a difference."

"I wouldn't bet on the loyalty part if I were you."

The Council leader wasn't interested in his statement and continued. "Think about it, Rick... we have the first of our kind, the most mathematically inclined, the most highly analytical, the voice of reason, the most business-savvy, and me, the most political of Ricks, all on the Council. We're in charge because of our specialties, but now we need the best of us to complete the set. Why do you think we all went through so much effort to save you and keep you alive?"

"Because I have a haircut that looks as ridiculous as the rest of the Council?" The scientist offered in jest before his expression turned serious. "For real though, fuck you for not letting me die. I didn't consent to suffering through liver-transplant surgery, and not being able to drink is hell. What's the point of living if you can't even enjoy a nice shot of straight whiskey or vodka? I-it's bullshit!"

Riq IV gave him a warning look that suggested he wasn't going to tolerate such commentary again. "It would have been a waste of time and resources to allow such a valuable asset such as yourself to slip away, and I should hope that you'd be grateful to have been bought more time. Other Ricks aren't granted half the opportunities that you will come to enjoy soon enough." He paused to take a calming breath. "I don't think you will ever realize just how important you are, but the intel you've already provided us with has been priceless and we could do with more of it."

"Oh, that lame old shit? I wrote it down because I was bored. It was also strategic – it gave me the perfect opportunity to sit down with my abductors and listen to them while they worked." Rick casually admitted, seeing no reason to lie. "Once they were distracted enough, I got into their personal shit, and boy... did it deliver. You're playing them, just like you're trying to play me now."

"It might look that way to you, but I assure you it's not the case." Riq IV tried to sound firm, but in reality, he knew he was starting to come off as desperate and weak. "The truth is, we need you, Rick B-526. I'm willing to do almost anything to secure you a position in the next stage of the Citadel's growth and development. Beyond providing more intel, your experiences would make you a great military consultant for our Commander-in-Chief, and your innovative nature would aid us in arming everyone here with custom weaponry, if need be."

"Yeah, I get that you need me, but guess what? So does Morty, and he's far more important than any of you dipshits." Rick slowly shook his head. "Sorry, but you're just not selling it to me. I guess it's cool to arm the other Ricks with knowledge and weapons for self-defense, but they're more than capable all on their own if they actually bothered to get off their asses. Necessity is the mother of invention."

"Well, why don't you tell them that yourself? If you don't like it, then change it. Isn't that what you do?" Riq IV turned to face him. "If we work together, our goals will benefit each other. What is it you want the most? A quiet place where you can work without fear of being harassed or hunted? Somewhere where your Morty can grow up free from danger and strife? A chance to fight back against the same Galactic Federation that took everything away from you?"

Rick's mouth set in a hard line; he knew Riq IV was openly preying on him now, but he was still interested enough to keep listening.

"You've already proven your worth as a leader many times over, Rick B-526. You know where the Federation's weak spots are for next time, and if you can guide two other hopeless idiots towards survival and success, then imagine what you could do for the entire Citadel."

"Hah, and we're back on that. Noooo thank you." Rick replied, drawing out the vowel for emphasis. "The two Ricks that captured me actually listened to my instructions when they needed to, but I sure as hell wouldn't call them successful. And you can hardly commend me for what I did... I didn't know there were two intergalactic dictatorships waging war on each other in that dimension until it was too late, but I had a hell of a lot of explosives to help me out."

"You would have found a way regardless of what tools you had at your disposal, I'm sure. The point is, you were quick on your feet, you correctly assessed the situation, and then you took charge and acted accordingly. If only all Ricks could do the same." The Council leader snorted in disgust. "Tell me... if you're so adamant about disappointing me and not joining the Citadel's ranks, then what would you do with yourself? Go back to the stupid, technologically challenged dirtball you seem to love so much, and that ragtag bunch of idiotic freedom fighters who couldn't organize their way out of a wet paper bag?"

"Geez. I really am predictable, aren't I?" Rick frowned, disappointed in himself. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered it, but it's not a viable option while I have Morty to take care of. Where I'm going and what I'm gonna do is super complicated, and quite frankly, none of your fucking business."

Even though he was trying hard to maintain his composure, Riq IV was positively seething and he tightly clenched both hands into fists. "Damn you, Rick B-526... you are far too short-sighted and insular for your own good! Do you not realize how easily you could achieve all your goals? You already know that any of your attack strategies would be far superior to anything that your beloved freedom movement could ever come up with! Why bother going back when you know you could do whatever you wanted?"

The scientist had his full attention on the other now, and his expression was an even mix of confusion and suspicion. He was also more than curious to know what the councilman was about to suggest, but he also hated it; he was aware of how wide open and vulnerable he must have looked.

"I'm listening." He announced very deliberately and clearly. Although he was open to new ideas, he was also on guard and tense; he did not want to be taken advantage of.

Riq IV chose his next words carefully; he knew that if he said the wrong thing now, he risked losing everything he'd been working towards. "If you were to take up that gold badge and the mantle of responsibility that goes along with it, then you could turn everything in your favor. Imagine having the military might of the Citadel at your back, why... you could hand-pick the ones you wanted and train them to do anything. You could set them loose in your dimension and exact revenge on your iteration of the Federation without even being there."

The scientist took it in, but did not speak; his mind was going at a hundred miles an hour trying to understand why Riq IV would offer him so much power and could only conclude that it was a part of his manipulation tactics.

"Think about it, Rick... I mean, really, really think about it," the councilman was becoming excited. "We couldn't save your planet because the Citadel's militia isn't large enough to wage war on an intergalactic scale, but it's only a matter of time. Don't you want to be on the right side of that? You know how to get Ricks to like you. They'd respect you and do whatever you asked of them."

"Cut it out! I already told you that I don't wanna climb your dumb popularity ladder." Rick demanded, hating the other's stubbornness and persistence; the conversation felt like it was going in circles. "Besides, this sounds shady and way too good to be true. You're planning something underhanded, aren't you? Why can't you just shoot straight with me?"

"Your suspicious nature is not helping you right now." Riq IV looked offended. "Why does there have to be some hidden agenda behind my words? Why can't you just accept that you're the superior Rick, and that your personality traits set you apart from the rest?"

"Well... because if I was a scheming son of a bitch, and I am, then there's gotta be more to this than what you're telling me. There's gotta be a catch... there always is."

"Let me assure you, there isn't. Why can't you just accept that the Citadel needs you? Let's face it, Rick B-526, when you see something you don't like, you have to change it for the better because you can't help yourself. You've already liberated entire worlds, and you've been spending your time trying to help the other Ricks you've been around, haven't you?"

"Hey, fuck you!" Rick spat back defensively.

"Calm down," Riq IV raised a hand to silence him. "There's nothing wrong with it, and keeping your gold badge will allow you to continue fixing things on a much broader scale. I know how much you hate power and popularity, but they are necessary aspects of politics and they make the lesser Ricks pay attention. Once you look past those things and see the bigger picture, you'll understand that ultimately, this entire operation is about our survival. You seem to be able to do that better than any of us."

"I-I just got lucky, I guess." Rick shrugged, not having any other way to explain it. "It's not really something I can teach the others. All I can do is keep telling them not to give up."

"Nobody's stopping you. In fact, I'm encouraging it, and I'm offering you an elevated platform to keep doing it." Riq IV's expression suddenly turned dark. "We're on the verge of a revolution, Rick... do you honestly think I enjoy standing idly by while our interdimensional brethren are crushed, maimed, murdered, beaten, raped, tortured, and taken advantage of because of their intelligence? We were the ones who unlocked the infinite... we should be the superior force within it. This universe and every conceivable universe that exists should be ours. Ours to use, to control, to dominate, and ours to command. We have the power to go anywhere anytime we want, and nobody is able to stop us. Why shouldn't we use it to our advantage to salvage and empower our infinite selves?"

The scientist stood there, deeply frowning as he processed what he was hearing; although there was probably some element of truth in Riq IV wanting to protect the Ricks from all the other timelines, he was starting to sound like he had godlike aspirations. He also couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the words were just empty promises and hot air, and that he was using it all to his advantage.

Riq IV watched him closely and waited for a response, but when there wasn't one, he continued with his next line of thought. "Word got out before it was supposed to, but now that the Citadel is talking about the Rickest Rick, we're experiencing a mass immigration of them arriving on our doorstep in all states of ill health. It's a very real problem and I'm sure you saw it yourself when you arrived. It's time to put all our differences aside and uphold the promise of safety. We need all the Ricks we can get, but most importantly, we need you. We're going to need to work together if we have any hope of helping them. Us. All of us. What say you?"

Rick stayed silent; no matter how good he made it sound, Riq IV was downright untrustworthy and something felt deeply wrong about the whole thing. Then, a crazy idea came into his head like so many others he'd had before it – he could play the player. If the Citadel truly was a farce and a big setup for the Council to prey upon the lesser Ricks of the multiverse, then he could pick it apart much more easily from the inside.

Maybe, if he formulated enough of a plan, he might even be able to set some of them free.

"Well?" Riq IV gently pushed the question again. "You'd never have to worry about food or shelter ever again. You would always be comfortable and well-respected here, and your Morty would be able to grow up in the safest place imaginable. The Council protects their own."

"It's all well and good for you to make those claims, but," Rick spoke finally, his voice low and hesitant. "How do you expect me to deal with Morty AND all your Citadel-drama bullshit? No matter what happens, I can't abandon him or divide my attention elsewhere."

"You'd be able to set your own working terms, of course." Riq IV spoke immediately; he'd been anticipating this topic and already had a rehearsed answer waiting to go. "Gold ranks are their own bosses. They decide what to do when it suits them. You're smart, I'm sure you'd be able to figure out how to fit that Morty into your schedule. I DID tell you that you would be allowed to keep him... have you forgotten our original conversation so soon?"

"No." Rick grumpily returned. "So... I could hand-pick any Rick I wanted?"

"Yes," Riq IV answered just as quickly as before. "We regularly pick out the Ricks we like more than others. Ricktiminus Sancheziminius has his questionable business partners and practices on the side, but it never gets in the way of his capacity to lead, so we turn a blind eye to it. Rick Prime likes to entertain himself by inviting his personal guards in for drinking contests, while Quantum Rick loves giving paradoxes to the other mathematically inclined Ricks in his circle of influence. Hell, there's a Lab Rick I keep around just because he knows the perfect ratio of ingredients behind my favorite cocktails."

"I see nepotism is alive and well..." Rick grumbled, half to himself. "Fine, gimme C-711 and Q-316, for starters. They're not military and they don't know much about anything, but they work well together and I wanna keep them far away from you."

The arrogant smirk on the Council leader's face was huge; he'd been anticipating it all along. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Rick didn't miss a beat, "I don't want those stupid guards following me around and babysitting me everywhere I go, so call 'em off. And I'm gonna need time out to rest up and recover... I'm stiff and sore and in pain, and that's WITH all the drugs and medication swirling about in my system. If you want me that badly, then you're gonna have to wait for it like everyone else, including me. I know it's not great, but I'm not happy about it eith-"

"It's fine by me." Riq IV curtly interjected. "Your caretakers left me with your paperwork, so we can formulate an appropriate plan for the kind of work you'll be doing until you are well enough to work at full capacity. I only request that you make an appearance for your gold-badge-induction ceremony, and that you attend a minimum of three sessions with the Citadel's therapist."

"Wait... what?" Rick's displeasure was instant; he could already predict where this was going, but asked anyway. "Why?"

Riq IV unhurriedly paced back over to his oval table and sifted through the paperwork that the doctor had left behind. "Your attending physician has previously suggested that you need treatment for your... suicidal thoughts and behavior." He went momentarily quiet as he read the notes, but they contained more of the same. "His recommendations have not changed. I will book an appointment at your earliest convenience."

"You gotta be kidding me... there's no way in hell I'm doing that!" Rick stubbornly declared. "I'm doing just fine and dandy, thank you very much!"

"There is no reason to hide or be so defensive about it. Being aware is the first step to being able to deal with the problem in an appropriate manner." Riq IV looked up at him and shrugged it off like it was nothing; it certainly wasn't a new topic for him. "And while I am sure that you would not be surprised to learn how high suicide rates are among the Ricks of the multiverse, I do not want you becoming a part of the statistic as well."

The look of disgust all over Rick's face was blatant, and Riq IV's words didn't do anything except ruin his mood further. "Do you think my 'attending physician' can learn how to fuck off? I'm gonna go crazy before too long if I can't drink!" And he felt like it was true; although he'd been properly sobered up and dry since his surgery ten days ago, his psychological dependency on alcohol was still very much there.

"Do you think I want to listen to your whining?" Riq IV matched his tone. "It will only be three hours of your time in total. You're capable of taking naps longer than that."

The scientist didn't offer any reply other than a loud growl of protest; he supposed if he stayed on at the Citadel, there really was no avoiding therapy without some kind of convoluted plan to make himself unavailable. Unfortunately for him, the noise startled Morty awake and he squeaked, going teary-eyed as he stared up at his grandfather. The gentle pats he received weren't going to soothe him this time; he did not appreciate the unexpected jolt to his system or waking up in yet another unfamiliar location. His next noise was a loud whimper; it was a warning that his mood was about to deteriorate.

"Attending therapy sessions will allow you to learn more appropriate coping strategies," Riq IV tried again. "Don't think you're the first Rick that has to forgo alcohol by any means. You will get used to it in time, just as the others have done. Only the weak-willed succumb to their vices."

Rick was insulted by the notion and bit down his rising anger only for Morty's sake; if he lost it now, he knew it would send the youngster into another crying fit. "I'm not doing your dumb therapy sessions," he practically snarled out the words, "and you can't stop me from drinking no matter how hard you try."

"Two one-hour sessions," the other firmly stated as if it wasn't negotiable, "and are you certain of that? Don't test my capacity to cut your supply off."

Rick couldn't glare at him any harder. "Bite my ass, you pointy-haired bastard!"

"Two half-hour sessions," Riq IV returned, his voice brimming with overconfidence, almost like he was bidding on an auction. "And I'll call the guards off so you can have your privacy and freedom back. They were assigned to you for your protection, but you have proven many times over how capable you are of defending yourself."

Furrowing his brow, the scientist made small frustrated sounds as if he carefully deliberated over everything in his head; he could half-ass his way through therapy if he was forced into it, and he could get his hands on alcohol again if he was really determined. Whether or not the Council leader could be trusted to keep his word on the guards was yet to be seen, but Rick also knew how desperate he was to make him stay.

Playing and outwitting such a wily version of himself was going to be very interesting indeed.

"One last thing," the other smoothly added. "If you want to retain your privacy, then don't go around bragging that you're the Rickest Rick. Your underlings spent a considerable amount of effort hiding you from the rest of the Citadel, and once they learn that you've returned, they'll treat you like a celebrity and never leave you alone."

"Phh, why would I brag about that? I have nothing to prove." After another moment of silence, Rick finally gave in and begrudgingly agreed. "Fine, I guess I'll do it... no guards?"

"No guards," Riq IV affirmed, and then as if to sweeten the deal, he added, "and I can have room service sent to your apartment so you never have to think about where your next meal is coming from."

"Sure," Rick shrugged back. "But it doesn't really bother m-"

The conversation was brought to an abrupt end by Morty's shrill crying. His mood had tipped over the edge at last - he was hungry and long overdue for a nap.

Wincing in pain, the Council leader placed his left hand on his temple and sharply pointed at the door with his right. "It's a good thing we're done... get that thing out of my sight!"

Rick narrowed his eyes and shot the man one last dirty look before opening the door and leaving, genuinely glad for the escape – he was more than done.

* * *

Outside, Surgeon Rick sat on the bench next to Riq IV's private-chamber door, while Ricktus nervously paced up and down the same stretch of corridor he'd traversed the last time he'd been forced to wait there. Ricktiminus Sancheziminius didn't do much except lean against the wall while tapping his foot, bored out of his mind, while Quantum Rick stared blankly into nothingness, his mind off in another galaxy.

"Soooo," Surgeon Rick decided to break the silence by voicing his curiosity. "Does this shit happen often?"

"Never." Ricktiminus Sancheziminius gruffly replied, insulted by the fact he had to wait outside with the lower-ranked Ricks. "But I can no longer hear them shouting at each other, which is a good start."

"Are they actually negotiating in there?" Surgeon Rick put his ear to the door, but he was unable to discern what was happening inside. "Do you think it's gonna be like a Battle Royale or a Thunderdome thing? Like, two Ricks enter, one Rick leaves?"

The surgeon's question dragged Ricktus back to reality and he stopped in his tracks. "I sincerely hope not... Rick B-526 is a well-seasoned veteran in combat and would be the better candidate under normal circumstances, but in his current state, his injuries would hinder him quite badly." He anxiously glanced at the door. "Should we intervene?"

Ricktiminus Sancheziminius couldn't decide which of the two was being more annoying, so he glared at both of them. "I do not believe that there is going to be a physical altercation. Riq IV is a politician - he prefers to fight and win his battles with words over violence."

"Even with his handicap, the asset would still be the best choice to bet on." Quantum Rick managed to say through his cloud of thoughts. "Statistically, he's been in more fights, but he is the clear winner because he has made better choices overall."

"He might be our best self, but he's not infallible!" Ricktus protested. "Need I remind you that he already died twice?" He took the gold badge out of his pocket and tried to hand it back to the councilman. "There's no way in hell he's going to take this. We need to go back in there before-"

The sentence was never finished. There was a sudden muffled, high-pitched cry, and then a loud wooden thump as the door to Riq IV's chambers was flung open. Rick suddenly walked out, stopped to snatch the gold pin out of the doctor's hands, and then stormed off down the corridor.

"What? W-what the..." He tried to get the words out, but Ricktus just stood there, stunned by what had just taken place. "...what was that?"

A very disgruntled Riq IV appeared in the doorway. "That... is the newest gold-ranked member of the Citadel, so you've just earned yourselves 2.1 million Council credits. He is also your new boss. I suggest you run along and find out what he wants from you."

"Oh god," the doctor's eyes widened and his heart sank into his gut. "He really IS going to make our lives hell..." He gave a short nod of understanding and turned away to follow the scientist's lead.

"Whoa, for real? You're not shitting me?" It was Surgeon Rick's turn to look dumbfounded. "That can't be right... he came back here to tell you off. That's messed up, dude!" He sprang off the bench and ran after his old charge. "Yo, come back and tell us what's going on, bro! Don't leave us hanging! What did he buy you off with?"

After they were gone, the Council leader spoke again. "Double the guards and have the asset watched... quietly." His voice was barely above a whisper, but his tone was still commanding and full of authority. "We are either about to forge our strongest ally or our biggest threat, and I can't tell which one it's going to be. That Rick has enough charisma and influential power that he could turn the whole Citadel against us if he turns rogue... do NOT let that happen."

The other two councilmen gave a short nod in understanding and went their separate ways; everything was going according to plan.


	32. The Burden of Rickponsibility

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty aren't real. They're cartoons. This work of fanfiction is mine but the original cartoon is not. The official content was created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon, and it is copyright to [Adult Swim]. You should support the official release wherever possible.

 **NOTE:** The plot settles down a little this chapter. Have some fluff and silliness.

* * *

 **Chapter 32 – The Burden of Rickponsibility** **  
**

 **December 13th, 12:15pm,** **Citadel Time, 2001  
** **Cross-Temporal Rift Nebula, Location Classified  
** **Citadel Of Ricks, Dimension Number Classified**

* * *

"Hey! Where are you going, man?! Come back!" There was a pause. "Don't do this to us!"

"Leave him be, C-711... he'll tire himself out."

Rick heard the voices following behind him, but he did not stop; Morty was busy squealing on his shoulder and he was determined to keep going until he got as far away from Riq IV's office as possible, insulted by the fact that the Council leader had called his grandson 'that thing'. Sure enough, the doctor's prediction was spot-on and he slowed down as the pain in his side caught up with him again, allowing the others the opportunity to close in and walk beside him.

"Yo, what the hell happened back there?" Surgeon Rick immediately spoke his mind; he was highly curious and concerned all at once. "It's totally not like you to fall in line with authority, bro... what made you take the badge? Did the big boss bribe you with something awesome? Did he threaten you? Sit the fuck down and take a breather, 'cause you ain't doing yourself any favors by pushing yourself too hard and ignoring us. We can't help you if you don't tell us what's wrong."

"I-I'm not the one who needs help..." Rick stubbornly growled back and shook his head; he could feel himself start to become woozy and braced one arm on the corridor wall for support.

"Huh?" The surgeon blinked in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"C-711 is right... you're overdoing it and you could do yourself real harm if you continue." The words came out low and hesitant as if the doctor had been internally debating it; while he knew he was bound by rank and that this Rick was literally his direct superior now, he didn't want to cross the line or get in trouble. "I don't know what you want my new job to be, but we still have a duty of care where your health is concerned. Can we pull rank on this?"

Surgeon Rick's pace slowed momentarily as he considered the question; he didn't want to intervene either, but he could see that their new boss clearly needed them to. "Uh... if it's directly related to health and well-being, then yeah. Get your arm around him and I'll grab the little guy. We can totally use that and drag his ass into the infirmary."

"What?! N-no! You're NOT taking me back there again, i-it's not that bad!" Rick loudly sputtered in protest. "I'll sit down when I'm good and ready, a-and not a moment before!"

"Well, he's still standing, so..." Surgeon Rick hummed in thought as he quickly reassessed his patient. "When was the last time you took your meds, dude? If we get you back to the apartment, we can fix that up and you'll feel lots better inside half an hour."

Rick made his discontentment known with a loud huff as the doctor came into his personal space and gently supported his left arm over his shoulders; it wasn't what he wanted, but it was still a better choice than dealing with the infirmary again. "Fine, but I'm not letting you do this to me again..."

Luckily, the journey up to Rick's apartment was a relatively short one. Although the scientist showed no gratitude to practically being carried the whole way, he felt better once he was set down and sitting on his couch.

Morty quietened down considerably as well; while he would have preferred to be in the arms of his favorite person, he had already spent time in the apartment in the days following Rick's surgery, so he found comfort in the familiar surroundings. However, almost as soon as he'd settled, he let loose with another deafening cry, announcing to the whole Citadel that he was still hungry and tired.

Rick attempted to rise to his feet so he could deal with the problem, but Ricktus was quicker and pinned him down by his shoulders, determined to keep him from moving again so soon.

"H-hey!" Rick promptly raised his voice. "What gives!?"

"We'll strike a balance in our objectives soon enough, but you cannot reprimand me for keeping you from straining yourself." Ricktus spoke in his most calming tone. "You've heard me say it many times before, but this is for your own good."

"Oh, for... I don't need your help. I can handle myself!" Rick angrily objected. "Stop treating me like a child!"

The reply was smooth; this was the one area the doctor still had confidence in. "Then stop acting like one."

"Oh boy..." Surgeon Rick bit his lower lip at the rising hostilities; holding a screaming young child was bad enough without having to listen to a fight between his old and new boss as well, so he offered them a diversion instead. "Yo, now that we're somewhere safe where nobody can overhear us, why don't you tell us all about what happened with Riq IV? I'm dyin' to know, and I'm sure my bro is, too."

The comment seemed to calm the scientist a little, but he still took the opportunity to slap Ricktus in the face with an open-palmed hand to get him out of his personal space. "Ugh... where do I even start?" And he honestly didn't know; he already suspected that if he flat-out told them his real motivations behind taking the gold badge, it could be used against them, or worse, they could be captured and tortured for information if things turned ugly later.

He certainly didn't put it past the Council; he'd already witnessed Riq IV taking joy out of verbally tormenting them the first time he'd been in the Council-leader's office.

"From the beginning? Duh." Surgeon Rick gently prompted as he moved away to the apartment's kitchenette to prepare medicine and food for Morty.

"Well, uh..." Rick gently shrugged his shoulders and chose a simple answer that sounded a lot like what Riq IV had already pitched to him. "I changed my mind. I want to make a difference."

"That part definitely sounds authentic and like something you would do, but doing it under the authority of another does not." Ricktus grumpily rubbed his cheek as he sat on the furthest cushion away from his new boss, figuring that he was safe if he kept his distance. "You were stubborn about it and adamantly refused to join the Citadel right from day one. How did Riq IV convince you to change your mind in the few minutes you were in his office?"

Trying to determine how best to explain ambiguously while still telling the truth, he ended up stalling. "Uh... I don't know," he already sounded frustrated, "but I need you to trust me, OK? I-it literally just happened and I need time to sit down and talk with the rest of... the Council." He couldn't believe he was willingly saying the words and felt disgusting. "My job here hasn't even been defined yet."

Surgeon Rick stood over him with a small cup of pills and a glass of water precariously balanced in the fingers of one hand, while he somehow supported Morty in his other arm and held a jar of baby food in the other. "Here you go, bro." He held his arm out and offered Rick the medication. "After you take that, it'd be great if you could define our new job description, now that we're following your lead."

"Indeed," Ricktus half-nodded, half-lowered his head in acceptance. "What would you have us do?"

"I-it's not like that," Rick grabbed the pills and downed them in one hit, then took a long drink of the water. "See, I don't wanna tell you what to do and I never did. If working under a gold-rank Rick means doing what they want, then I want you to have the freedom to be your own bosses. Go do what interests you, I-I don't know... don't you have aspirations outside of work and earning money? What do you wanna do with yourselves?"

Surgeon Rick thought about the question as he sat beside the other and deposited Morty in his lap. "Well, I always did want to build a spaceship and travel the universe, but I never got the math down properly and it started looking like drug-fueled, improbable bullshit before long... same with the portal gun." He almost sounded regretful. "I did the surgeon thing because it was easy, but I've always been interested in learning about space and stuff. Hell, you saw the blackboard in my garage. You fuckin' wrote all over it!"

"I fixed it, you mean." Rick corrected him, then finished off the glass of water and loudly burped. "If you'd only put that extra bit of effort into your portal-gun formula, then you would've found your mistake and cracked it. I did it so you'd read my notes and try harder next time."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... it was always in the back of my mind." The surgeon grumpily defended himself as he handed over the jar of baby food. "I didn't know it was the better Rick in me talking until I learned about the Citadel and all of you guys. Once I registered myself, the Council gave me access to portal-gun technology and I never had to think about it. But I'm sure I would've solved it all on my own one day."

Both of Morty's tiny hands lunged out to intercept the food; he wasn't going to show an ounce of patience and wasted no time shoving one hand into the open jar so he could lick the lumpy mush off his fingers and feed himself.

"Sure you would have." Rick challenged the surgeon with a wide toothy grin, at least until his attention was diverted downwards. "Hey, Morty. Slow the fuck down there, would ya? Y-you're gonna get it all over me, you gross little shit!"

Ricktus listened to the discussion and shifted nervously, waiting for his turn to speak. "I'm not sure if I understand you correctly, sir. Your order to us as a gold-tier Rick is to... not follow your orders? Forgive me for pointing this out, but in not following your orders, we're still doing what you asked of us, so that's highly paradoxical."

Rick tiredly sighed and placed a hand on his forehead, needing a moment to keep himself calm. "Look... first of all, stop calling me that. Choosing to play the Council's game still doesn't make me your superior. Nothing's changed - I'm still the same old guy. Secondly, use your brain and actually think about what I'm telling you – I don't need to order you around, and I don't want you to do any odd jobs for me. I'm essentially giving you free reign under my badge. Abuse it and go have fun."

"While your mindset is indeed admirable, I must inform you that it is unrealistic." Ricktus spoke as formally as he would have during official Council business or an assembly meeting. "We all want balance in our lives between fun and work, but we still need to get paid. My colleague and I originally came to the Citadel to earn an income and to use our expertise. We can't do that if we sit around doing whatever we please because you ordered us to."

Rick rolled his eyes in frustration and hoped it wasn't a taste of things to come. "Y'know, I think I liked you better when you were all high and mighty, and acted like you had something to prove. Now you're just sad... do you wanna pull the stick out of your ass? You might find your sense of humor in there. Just saying."

Surgeon Rick chuckled, even though he knew it wasn't a good idea; he could already tell he was going to have to mediate before things got worse. "OK, cut out the shit. You can't be throwin' around petty bullshit if you wanna work with each other. My brother just wants to know how he can keep earning a living while under your leadership. You can't blame a guy for that."

"Did either of you even hear a word of what I just said? It's like I'm talking to a wall." The scientist slowly shook his head in disapproval. "Fine, I'll pull some strings and arrange something... what kind of work do you wanna do?"

"If I had my way, I would set up a clinic for the Citadel's registered Mortys, but as you can well imagine, there's no demand for that kind of work here." As Ricktus answered, his face was a mixture of seriousness and disappointment. "You would get more use out of my skill set by assigning me the task of developing vaccines and immunizing the Citadel population against all the exotic, yet preventable diseases that the newcomers are going to bring in with them. It's going to get so much worse before it gets better."

"Dude, if there's anything I can see, it's that you like torturing yourself." Surgeon Rick teased with a wide grin. "For real? You seriously wanna open a Morty clinic? That would be like kicking yourself in the balls every day."

"Goddammit, C-711... my superior asked me a question and I answered it!" Ricktus shot back, taking insult to what was meant to be a joke. "I'm glad that you try to find the humor in everything, but sometimes things are terrible and there's nothing you can do about it. It's becoming painfully apparent that I'm never going to earn enough money for what I want, so I want to take care of all the Mortys, damn it! ALL of them!"

Surgeon Rick immediately raised both hands in surrender; he knew he'd hit a sore spot and hadn't meant to. "Shit, bro... y-yeah, that was bad of me. I'm sorry, OK? It'll work out, you'll see. Our new boss actually isn't an asshole for once, and you're already 2.1 million credits closer than you ever were before-"

"Shut it, C-711!" Ricktus refused to let him finish and angrily folded his arms across his chest. "Yes, that was bad of you, but I don't want an apology or your pity. What I DO want you to do is sit there and feel bad, and to start thinking before you speak. And get used to feeling bad until you learn!"

Although Rick was still listening to their squabble, his attention was drawn to his surroundings. If this was meant to be the apartment that had been assigned to him, he couldn't tell - the space looked like it had been lived in for a long time. An assortment of discarded clothes lay scattered across the floor nearby, while the only bed he could see was in utter disarray with the pillows and sheets thrown to one side. There were also dirty dishes stacked up on one side of the kitchenette's sink, while the coffee table in front of him was littered with take-out containers, used wine glasses, and liquor bottles in various states of emptiness.

"I see you've already made yourselves at home." Rick didn't even bother to hide his repulsion. "How can you live like this? I was a hoarder and lived on my own for years, a-and not even I was this bad!"

Ricktus matched his expression and turned his head towards the guilty party. "I'm not the one responsible for this mess."

Surgeon Rick's tone was instantly apologetic. "Ah shit, sorry, bro. He's right, it's mostly mine. My bad." He rose to his feet and began hastily clearing the table, feeling guilty that he'd absentmindedly left alcohol within his new boss's reach. "We've been so busy with you that I didn't get time to make the joint look pretty before you arrived. Thanks for letting us hang here for awhile. We literally had nowhere else to crash."

Rick raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Really? Why didn't you stay at your daughter's house? Don't you have your own apartment or living arrangement here at the Citadel?"

"No, we do not." Ricktus curtly answered for him. "Both of our living spaces were on my ship... before you blew it up. When I first met C-711, he was either wasting his income on hotels or sleeping in empty beds at the infirmary. For some unknown reason, I think I was insane or desperate at the time... I took pity on him and gave him free board in exchange for work. I needed an assistant when my first Citadel-endorsed project was approved and..." He glanced back in Surgeon Rick's direction. "Was I drunk when I hired you?"

"Uh, probably? Drunk on the idea of making bank and getting shit done, maybe." Surgeon Rick offered him another weak grin. "Hey, now that you don't have to worry about all that stuff, w-we're gonna be cool again, right? Because I miss the old you. Is shit ever gonna go back to normal?"

"Nothing will ever be normal again, and that's a gross understatement. Look where we are, for starters." Ricktus was surprisingly calm as he told him matter-of-factly. "If not for our superior's charity, then you would likely be back to sleeping in all your previous places, and I'm not even certain where I would be... I don't want to think about it."

"Phh, it's not charity." Rick snatched up a spoon from the mess on the coffee table before it could be tidied, cleaned it off on his lab coat, and then started using it to feed Morty, wanting to hurry him along. "OK, so blowing up your home is on me, but that's-" His words were prematurely cut off by a yawn. "T-that's what you get for getting comfortable and complacent living in what was essentially a giant flammable pinata. I crashed at Birdperson's house when I had nothing. I-I'm just paying it forward."

"Yeah, which is super cool of you to do, but, uh..." The surgeon stopped in his tracks and hesitated. "Look bro, I don't want this to come off wrong, but you're homeless as fuck like us now, and you need your own space, too. Are you gonna live here and kick us out?"

Rick was silent as he thought about it; crashing on Birdperson's couch again was a highly predictable and pathetic move, and even Riq IV had called him out on it. Even with the ability to travel anywhere across the multiverse, staying at the Citadel was going to be highly convenient if he was to get himself involved in its inner workings. He also knew that taking care of Morty while still recovering would likely be difficult, and although he was normally too proud to ask for help from others, he was starting to come to the realization that he was going to need it.

Although he had briefly considered the idea, he just didn't have it in him to kick the other Ricks out of his apartment. They irritated and frustrated him immensely, and he despised their poor choices and complete inability to stand up for themselves, but in spite of those things, he actually tolerated their presence somehow.

No matter how much he wanted to believe that things like love, companionship, and friendships were meaninglessness or only held him back, he still desired them because he was still a weak, pathetic little human at his core. He utterly hated it, but he also knew he would be lonely without them.

When he realized that Surgeon Rick was closely watching him and waiting for an answer, he bared his teeth and did his best to sound disinterested. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? I said you could keep the apartment, stupid! I didn't think I was ever gonna use it, so... technically, this is your space, not mine."

"But sir, you gave us your apartment. For free. That's the very definition of 'charity'." Ricktus was quick to challenge him. "Wait, why am I explaining this to you? You already knew that... once again, you have nothing to gain out of this. I don't know why you would bother."

The grin on Surgeon Rick's face was huge as he turned away to dispose of the rubbish and bottles. "Oh my god, are you dense? Does he have to spell it out for you? He likes us, bro."

"He likes us..." Ricktus repeated the words aloud, but he didn't find himself any closer to an understanding. "Why? I'm a big asshole and completely unlikable... and I'm able to come to terms with that, but Ricks clearly hate themselves, and by association, each other. Why do you keep giving us so much with no expectation of anything in return?"

"Well, come to think of it... there is one thing you can do." Rick glanced at him with half-lidded eyes; his medication had started taking effect, making him feel both heavy and incredibly drowsy. "Whew... that hit me faster than a double shot of whiskey on an empty stomach. C-can you finish up with Morty for me? I need to rest my eyes for a little bit."

The doctor immediately disregarded his own thoughts and feelings in favor of following orders. "Of course," he carefully gathered up the youngster and his jar of food, ignoring the sudden loud scream he received for taking him from his preferred person. "But why don't you lie down on the bed? It's comfortable and more than big enough for two of you."

"Because it's yours." Relieved of his responsibility, Rick shuffled about on the couch until he was lying down on his side. "Besides, I-I'm not going to sleep... j-just resting my eyes." As if to emphasize his words, he covered them with the crook of his arm to block out the overhead light.

"But this is your apartment, sir!" Ricktus stubbornly declared, refusing to believe it was any other way.

"I-if you call me 'sir' one more time," the words were mumbled and barely recognizable, "I'm gonna get back up and choke hold you."

"But s-" The doctor stopped himself in time and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Rick... we haven't done anything to change the Citadel-accommodation records, so your name and number would still be on the ownership list."

Rick only gave a small hum in reply this time, though it was impossible to tell whether it was disagreement or something else.

"Eh, leave him alone, bro. " Surgeon Rick told him as he paced around the floor to pick up dirty laundry. "Taking time out is good for him no matter what he wants to call it. Anyway, didn't you advise him against living on his own until he was all better? It's what you wanted, so don't complain about it."

"Fair point," Ricktus conceded, "but what am I supposed to do with this?" He nodded down towards Morty, who had since stopped screaming, but was now wriggling and making unhappy mewls in his arms.

"Really? We've been dealing with him for how long, and you still don't know what to do? Not sure if you got the memo, but you're meant to be the kid doctor and the expert on this one. You're not exactly inspiring a lot of confidence here, y'know." The surgeon paused to throw a pair of underwear in his general direction. "Ugh, fine... you wanna swap jobs? This shit has to go to the laundromat."

"Sure," Ricktus was annoyed that he had to duck out of the way, but he was still grateful for the suggestion. "Rick B-526's Morty seems to like you more than me anyway."

"You're being so contradictory... you know that?" Surgeon Rick grouchily dumped the armful of clothes at his feet. "You can't avoid it forever. I'll do it for you this one last time, but if the boss designates you to the same task in the future, then you gotta do it. If you're so adamant about taking care of all the Mortys in the Citadel, then you gotta start by, y'know, actually taking care of one of them." He reached down to take the youngster from him.

The doctor scooped up the pile of clothes the second his arms were free, glad for the opportunity to escape. "Thank you for covering for me, C-711."

"Anytime, brother." And just like that, all the bite was gone from his voice. "Hey, not that it matters now, but thanks for hiring me, man. You were actually cool for a while, and I got to see space every day while I was living on your ship. For what it's worth, even though everything got destroyed, you still got this dude here alive. The Council's gonna remember that."

"No. He got himself here on his own luck and skill." The doctor shook his head. "And it looks like we're along for the ride now, whether we like it or not."

"That's... not a bad thing? I'm fine with it." The other shrugged back at him. "He could've kicked us out, but he didn't. He could've taken the bed, but he didn't. He could've let you die... but he didn't. This dude might be the first non-self-serving gold Rick that the Citadel has ever seen, a-and he hired us, man. Us. The low-tier trash, mediocre, nothing Ricks."

"I'm not sure what you're getting a-"

"Everything's gonna be OK. I'm sure of it." Surgeon Rick spoke over him with firm conviction. "We got this guy watching our backs now. You wanna know what your new job should be? It's what it's always been - enabling Ricks like him so he can enable us. We're still the auxiliary cogs in a much larger machine." For one rare moment his expression was serious, but then he was right back to grinning like a fool. "C'mon, don't you wanna blow more shit up? Hang out with our new boss more often and you will. You gotta admit it was a little fun last time, right?"

"Yes, 'fun'," the reply was bitterly sarcastic, "I watched more than a year's worth of my own work burn down right in front of me, and I couldn't save any of it..." He stopped to take a deep breath; it was clear that he was still harboring a deep resentment over the loss. "Forgive me for not feeling as enthusiastic about it as you do." He gently pushed past him and headed out the door of the apartment.

Surgeon Rick gave up and let him go this time; it seemed, at least from his perspective, that the doctor was determined to keep wallowing in his own misery in spite of everything he'd just said.

If he wouldn't listen to reason, then he would just have to wait and find out all on his own.

* * *

One thought, and one thought alone penetrated Rick's mind as he slowly roused from slumber and took in the room around him. The curtains had been tightly drawn shut, but the light of a nearby desk lamp lit his surroundings in a soft glow and it was more than tolerable on his still-waking eyes.

He almost didn't want to get up; someone had thrown a blanket over him during his time asleep and he was still cozily enveloped in its warmth. However, despite how comfortable he was, the one thought persisted.

" _It's way too quiet..."_

He slowly sat up and indulged in a lazy stretch, also considering how easy it would be to fall into complacency here; he already liked the simplicity and practical layout of his apartment, even if it was a little on the small side.

Over on the bed, he found Surgeon Rick, who was lying precariously on the edge of the mattress and snoring, obviously taking a nap of his own. He checked his surroundings a second time to see if he could locate Morty as well, but he didn't seem to be anywhere nearby.

"Huh..." The observation made him get up properly this time, but he didn't have to look far and discovered the little boy fast asleep in his crib in the next room; he was lying on his back, his little arms tightly clinging to a stuffed-toy bee that one of the other Ricks must have given him earlier.

Rick was secretly impressed; not only had they gotten him down to sleep, but they'd somehow managed to put him in his own separate bed as well.

The peace and quiet gave him the opportunity to peer down and take a good, long look at his grandson - he was certainly getting bigger, and he found himself noticing it now more than ever. His stubby, little arms were growing out and becoming more slender, and the chubbiness of his round face was slowly disappearing; he was starting to look more like a young boy than a baby.

"Hey, Morty. How's my favorite grandson?" The words were barely audible as he slid a hand through the bars of the crib to gently ruffle his hair, his fingers lingering on the small patch of scruffy little clumped-together spikes that had formed over his forehead. "So you like it here, huh? I-is this what you want?"

Morty just moaned and made a weak whimpering sound, disliking being disturbed from his dreams.

It was all Rick needed to retract his hand again, knowing better than to gamble against such an obvious warning. "Shit, sorry, kid... I just wanted to make sure you were OK."

Leaving him be so he could continue to sleep, the scientist returned to the main room of the apartment and found a book to read.

Not even an hour passed before there was a loud knock on the door, and Rick immediately shot up to answer it, annoyed at the disturbance; the last thing he wanted was for the other occupants of the apartment to be woken up prematurely.

"What the hell do y-" Before he could voice the rest of his complaint, two Guard Ricks shoved straight past him, carrying large document boxes in with them. "H-hey! HEY! Who said you could just waltz in here!? This space is meant to be private, damn it!"

He immediately regretted the outburst; the sound of a piercing-loud wail came from Morty's room, which in turn startled Surgeon Rick awake and he sat bolt upright, promptly falling off the edge of the bed.

Rick buried his face in his hands; it was all he could do to contain his anger. "Y-you fucking dumbasses... why are you here and what are you doing?!"

One of the Guard Ricks dumped his armful of boxes down on the coffee table with a loud thud. "Hey man, don't get mad at us. We know how you feel, but we have our orders and they gotta be followed no matter what."

"Indeed. Riq IV sends his regards." The other guard answered as he set his own set of boxes down beside the first stack. "These contain documentation for your office and some light reading material from the Council. They want you to go through everything and untangle the red tape, as well as help them get beyond the stalemates that keep happening when they vote on policy." He paused momentarily. "Most of it is classified, so don't let it leave this room."

"W-what?" Rick glared at them from between his fingers. "What makes you think I wanna do anything like that?!"

"Because you have to," the first Guard Rick answered straight away. "There's only six Council members, so gold-rank Ricks like you get to collectively make up the seventh vote when it's split 3 for 3. We'll be back to pick up this shit again in three days. Be responsible and make your vote count."

Then, as quickly as they had come in, they went out again, leaving the scientist to stare at the closing door.

"Man, I hope that's not gonna become a regular thing." Surgeon Rick had since gotten up and moved to stand beside him. "What a bummer. I wanted my gold badge someday as well, but if that's part of the deal, then fuck that shit. I think I'd rather choke myself to death than read a bunch of boring paperwork. Are you gonna do it?"

"Do I have any other choice?" Rick scooted away to retrieve Morty from his crib before his cries could escalate any further.

"Maybe? You could always set it on fire. Then you can tell the Council that it's kinda your thing and that you have a recurring theme goin' on." Surgeon Rick suggested with a wide grin, though it quickly faded as he looked around him. "Oh hey, where's my other brother at?"

"I don't know! D-do I LOOK like his keeper!?" The words came out far more harsh than he intended, but his anger wasn't directed at the surgeon at all; Rick was still highly charged that his grandson had been woken by the unwelcome intrusion as he carried him back into the main room. "Calm down, Morty. You're gonna be fine." He began to gently rock him and pat him on the back. "Shh, It's OK. Grandpa's here now."

Surgeon Rick just rolled his eyes and let it slide. "Well, he was here before. He didn't tell you where he was going?"

"No? Again, I'm not his keeper. I told you that you could do whatever you want and I stand by that, so if he wanted to take off of his own accord, then more power to him." Rick shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm glad he could embrace it so quickly."

"No way, boss. It's not like that." Surgeon Rick quickly returned, becoming increasingly worried with each passing moment. "He's even more of a stickler for the rules than most Ricks I know. If he disappeared without saying anything, then something's gotta be wrong."

"Then go find him." Rick instructed, not understanding what the big deal was. "If that's what you wanna do, then I'm not stopping you."

"Hey, while I appreciate the laissez-faire management style, there's-" Surgeon Rick was about to add more to his statement, but he was distracted by another loud knock at the door. "Ah geez, not again! How do they know you're here?"

Rick gave him another shrug. "Maybe they're stalking me like you did?"

Surgeon Rick shook his head and opened the door to yet another Rick in uniform, though this one was so plain and indistinct that he couldn't tell which area of the Citadel he was from, at least until he saw the tray of food he was carrying.

"Yo," he called back to the other. "Did you order room service?"

A loud groan came from the scientist as he sat on the couch and placed Morty in his lap. "No, but it's meant to be mine. Just take it and make him go away!"

With a quick nod, Surgeon Rick did as he was told and shut the door again. "Is getting free food another perk that goes with the gold badge? Here ya go, eat up." He set the tray down on the coffee table and breathed a soft sigh, unable to cover up his concern this time. "Look, I need to know we're on the same page. Are you really gonna be cool with it if I take off and go looking for my bro?"

Rick wrinkled his nose in disgust, though it wasn't because of the question; he was too busy glaring at the contents of the plate. All he could see was a mound of white lumpy substance - it was easily one of the most unappetizing things he'd ever seen. "Nope, I'm not interested. Do you want some of... whatever the fuck that is?"

"Hey man, I'm not stealing your dinner. That's just rude." Surgeon Rick's attention drifted towards the food as well. "You gotta eat if you wanna regain your strength and get better. What's wrong with it? It looks like it's gonna be easy on your stomach, which is what you need right now."

"What ISN'T wrong with it? It looks gross and weird... and, at least in my experiences, food should be recognizable. What do you think it is?" Rick angrily motioned a hand towards the lump. "It looks like someone already ate it and threw it back up!"

The surgeon saw no reason to disagree, but frowned anyway. "You need to eat, bro... do you want me to come back with pizza?"

Rick perked up at the suggestion; anything was better than what was on offer. "Sure, I could go for that. Get extra pepperoni and those crunchy little mozzarella sticks with dipping sauce that everyone likes."

The other nodded in agreement, suddenly eager to get a move on; now he had two good reasons to leave. "I dunno when I'll be back. This could take a while."

In the instant he heard the door click shut, Rick carefully shuffled off the couch and sat on the floor with Morty. "Do you want this, little buddy? I know how much you like eating pulverized garbage, and I'm sick of eating the semi-liquid slop they keep trying to feed me." He placed the plate down beside the youngster.

Morty's first reaction was to shy away and hide at his grandfather's side, feeling clingy and a little afraid; he hadn't appreciated the rude awakening and was still upset over it. However, as he looked up at his favorite person, his face showed such a calm and serious expression that it was reassuring. He gave a loud, uncertain whimper and tentatively reached out towards the food with a tiny hand.

"Go on, kid. It's not going to blow up in your face. See?" Rick dipped a finger into it to demonstrate. "I still don't know what it's meant to be, but it's safe." He licked a glob off his finger, surprised to discover how good it actually tasted. "Huh... I think it's mashed potato? Probably?"

Feeling braver by the second, Morty copied Rick's lead and grabbed an entire handful of the stuff to shove in his mouth. Once he decided he liked the taste as well, he began to devour it.

A soft chuckle escaped the older man and he leaned back to watch his grandson make a giant mess of himself, the plate, and the floor around him. It amused him to see how food motivated the child and he made a mental note of it; he was sure he could use it to his advantage and encourage him later, or as positive reinforcement.

Over the next few hours, grandfather and grandson became involved in play that did not require words. Morty's room was well stocked with toys, so Rick got out some stacking blocks and stuffed animals with which to keep him entertained. They captivated Morty's interest despite his short attention span, and when he got tired of the toys, the cushions from the couch were reconstructed into a makeshift pillow fort for him to hide in.

When Morty began rubbing his eyes and showing signs of tiredness, Rick took the cue and started getting him ready for bed. He carried him into the bathroom so he could strip him down and clean him off; taking a shower with him was impossible while he still had his stitches in, so all he could do was sit him in the bathtub with a washcloth and a couple of inches of water.

One screaming tantrum later, Rick was exhausted and in a bad mood as well; the simple chore had taken more of a toll on him than he wanted to admit, even to himself. Once he had struggled through the task of dressing the little boy in warm clothes, he turned the desk lamp off and took him to the bed in the corner of the apartment, wanting to lie down and rest with him as well. While he already knew that co-sleeping with Morty was a bad habit that he needed to break, it was the fastest and easiest way to settle him down, and it worked almost every time.

He would never admit it to anyone else, but having another warm body sleeping up against him was also something he wanted for himself; it was comforting and it brought some sense of normalcy back into his existence, no matter how small it was.

Both of them soon drifted off into a peaceful sleep, and it was well after midnight by the time they would be disturbed again.

Rick didn't hear the key turning in the lock, or the apartment door opening and banging shut again. The sound of footsteps hastily pattering across the floor vaguely registered in his mind, as did the button click when the desk lamp was switched on, but it still wasn't enough to properly disturb him. Then a voice that was low and full of concern came into his mind and merged with his dream of family and fragments of broken glass.

It was more like a nightmare and he wanted it to stop.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck... fuck me, man. How could you do this to us!? So fuckin' irresponsible... wh-wh-when I find him, I'm gonna kill him myself!" There were more footsteps as the voice came closer, and then it lingered overhead. "Shit, I'm really sorry to do this to you, brother... a-are you awake? It's kind of an emergency and I could really use your help right about now."

Part of his mind was curious and he desperately wanted to wake up, but as soon as the voice had stopped talking, reality and the dream blurred into nothingness, and Rick drifted back into a deep sleep. He didn't hear the more frantic pacing, nor did he hear the sound of the datapad phone calls. He was only finally aware that something was wrong when Morty woke up, climbed up onto his chest, and threw himself off the side of the bed so he could greet the other Rick in the room.

The next conversation pierced through his slumber, as did the sharp stabbing pain now coursing through his gut.

"Eeee! Ri-ri-ri!" Morty's high-pitched voice rang out. His next sounds were nonsense, but they were spoken with more volume than before.

"H-hey, little guy. Keep it down or you'll wake up the whole Citadel..."

"Eeeee!" The high voice answered him with a happy screech; the little boy was practically yelling at the top of his lungs by now.

It took a considerable amount of effort to move and sit up, but Rick forced himself to do it anyway. "G-goddammit, Morty... did you really have to do that?! F-fuck!" He hugged himself around the middle.

"Ah shit, sorry... are you OK?" Surgeon Rick was regretful and apologetic all at once. He was also so worked up that he couldn't hide his feelings no matter how hard he wanted to try. "I didn't wanna wake you, b-but... I-I don't know what else to do."

"I think the real question here is, are YOU OK? What the hell are you talking about?" The scientist rubbed at his eyes to rid them of sleepiness, deeply annoyed but also intrigued; he knew right away that something was very wrong because he'd never witnessed the surgeon act quite like this before. "Start from the beginning and try to stay calm."

"I-it, it's the boss, man," the words were shaky and came out so rapidly that he stumbled over them while trying to speak. "Well, n-not the boss-boss because he fired me, but the old boss, y'know, the one I used to work with, a-and sometimes you can call a guy 'boss' when you're being respectful, but that's not-"

"Ugh, slow down," Rick talked over him and forced himself to his feet so he could shuffle over and stand in front of him. "Stay with me, alright?" He set both hands on his shoulders and firmly held him in place. "You're not thinking straight. Stop, take a deep breath, and focus on what you need to say."

"OK. Fuck, fuck, shit, I-I..." The other covered his face with both hands and spoke through his fingers. "I-it's been way too long since we last heard from him. I've been blowing up his phone for hours, b-but he's not picking up. Y-you... y'know how your mind runs away with you and you think the worst has happened? Well, my mind is running away with me, and... he's arguably worse off than you, and, a-and fuck, I don't wanna think about it!"

Rick rolled his eyes; he'd already listened long enough to know what was going on, but Morty was already tugging on his pant-leg in an attempt to steal his attention. "Relax, it's probably nothing. My best guess is that he wandered off somewhere to feel sorry for himself again." He cast a disapproving look down at the little boy. "Stop."

Morty tugged a second time; he had no intention of stopping.

"You don't know that!" Surgeon Rick retorted as he pulled his hands away from his face. "His mind isn't in a good place, and if he's out there all on his own, well... i-is that really something you wanna risk?"

Rick frowned in thought for a moment and decided to try another angle. "Why is this so important to you, a-and how do you know he won't be back in the morning?"

"I dunno who he is or what kinda person he is anymore, man. I can't predict his next move." The question seemed to calm the surgeon a little, but he still couldn't push his bad thoughts aside. "I just wanna make sure he's OK..."

The scientist exhaled a long, frustrated sigh and narrowed his eyes; all he wanted to do was make his dimensional counterpart shut up so he could go back to sleep, but he was fast coming to the realization that it wasn't going to be that simple. "Fine... do you want me to pull some strings and see if I can get a search party together?"

"Y-you... you can do that?" Surgeon Rick's eyes widened in surprise.

"Sure, why not? Anything to stop you from being a pain in my ass." Rick gave him a light shove as he let go of him again. "But you gotta do something for me in return."

As Surgeon Rick stared at him, his worry morphed into curiosity. "Of course. What you need, boss?"

"Pick Morty up and get him back to sleep like you did before," Rick instructed as he stepped over the young boy and retrieved his gold badge from the coffee table. "And don't ever ask me to do this again. I'm not cool with the Council of Ricks, but lording my new rank over others makes me no better than them." Once he was at the door of the apartment, he opened it and called out into the hallway. "Hey, dipshits! I-I don't know how closely you're watching me, but I have a problem and I need as many of you as I can get. Come over here and do what I say!"

Three Guard Ricks immediately poked their heads out from their hiding places, while a nearby group of five overheard him and abandoned their patrol in favor of jogging towards his position.

"Great..." Rick growled at how quick the response was; discovering just how close the guards were to his door meant that Riq IV had lied about having them back off. As soon as the rest of them were close enough, he got straight to the point. "OK, listen the fuck up. I need you all to find a Rick for me. His dimension number is Q-316 and he's about my height and age. He has spiky, blue hair like me and he wears a white coat. Any questions?"

"Sir, unless you're going on a journey of self-discovery, your description matches everyone in the Citadel." It was an obvious snide remark, but the Guard Rick nearest him still spoke with his typical unhumored, military air. "Does he have any standout features we should look for? Any extra appendages, tattoos, markings, or augmentations?"

"He's got a scar over his left eye, he wears glasses like the nerd he is, and he has prosthetic, robotic legs. You'll know him when you see him, trust me." Rick wanted to slap himself for not mentioning the details straight away. "If you need a motivator to get your asses in gear, then I'll give a thousand credits to the Rick who finds him first. Do not approach him and report back here. Understood?"

He didn't get an answer; the Guard Ricks were already scattering like flies.

Feeling achieved that the work was going to be done for him, Rick wandered back into the apartment and shut the door. "Done. Now all you have to do is wait."

"Thanks, man... you're a real pal." As Surgeon Rick spoke, he genuinely meant it, and while he was still visibly unhappy, he seemed considerably calmer than he was before. "Sorry to make you do that, but, uh... don't feel bad about giving them orders. You're paying them for their time. That's all that matters." He sat down on the edge of the bed with Morty in his arms and gave him small rhythmic pats on the back; his technique nearly had the young boy asleep again.

"How much is a thousand credits anyway?" Rick wondered as he sat down next to him. "Is it a lot?"

"Yeah," Surgeon Rick went quiet as he did the conversion rate calculation in his head. "You offered them like, 5,300 US dollars. I know that because I'm always flipping credits for cash to give to my family." He frowned as he watched his new boss's expression shift and change. "Hey, don't worry about the cost. A guy in your position could easily afford it or write it off as a work expense."

"A work expense? Are you kidding?! I-I'm not validating the hierarchy any more than I have to!" Rick wanted to launch into an angry rant, but he knew he'd already woken up Morty enough today, so he pushed his unanswered question again instead. "Why is this guy so important to you?"

"Because he's my bro," the surgeon replied without hesitation. "Do I need another reason? Yeah, I know he's a huge asshole and kind of a dick, but he's also a good guy. I know you don't believe me because all you've ever seen is his bossiness, his arrogance, and that stupid 'I gotta be the alpha male' thing he likes to do, but he has good intentions. He defines himself by his usefulness and successes, but as you can guess, there's not a lot of that goin' on for us anymore. I can deal with that, but he can't. There's no down from here for him. He needs more people on his side now more than ever."

Rick yawned as he listened, but not because he found it boring; he was more than ready to go back to bed. "Hey, I've done my part. He can make his own successes from here on out. All he needs to do is get off his ass and try."

"He's not that kind of Rick... I-I don't think he's ever gonna see it that way."

"Fuck I'm tired, a-and everything hurts all over..." Rick made another sigh and shuffled back to lie down again. "...do I have to do anything when they find him?"

"In the best outcome, no. In the worst, well... let's hope it ain't comin' to that." Surgeon Rick deeply frowned, concerned by the admission of pain. "Do you need me to hit up the pharmacy tomorrow morning and pick up your prescriptions? You're more than good enough to self manage yourself now. Just don't overdo it."

Rick was about to say something else, but the loud knocking at the door stopped him. He braced his arms on either side of himself to get up and answer it, but Surgeon Rick was much quicker. Somehow, the jerking motion didn't disturb the little boy still in his arms.

Outside was a Guard Rick who snapped to attention the second the door was opened on him. "Sir, I am Guard Rick I-95 from the Citadel's militia. I've found a Rick matching your exact description. He's hiding out in a bar on the lowest level of the Citadel, and as requested, he hasn't been approached yet."

Relief visibly washed over the surgeon as he heard the news. "O-oh thank god..."

The guard lacked any expression and continued in a monotone voice. "Do you want me to kill him?"

"What?! N-no, no, no!" Surgeon Rick yelped. "He wants you to..." He trailed off and glanced back in Rick's direction. "What do you wanna do, boss?"

"I want you to stop calling me that." Rick grumbled back. "You're the one who wanted to know where he was, so do whatever you want. Is Morty asleep?"

Surgeon Rick glanced downwards. "Yeah."

"Then why are you still talking to me?" The scientist was glaring now, and spoke like the conversation was becoming an inconvenience to him. "Put him to bed and get the fuck outta here already." He let his head fall back on the pillow and covered his eyes with both hands. "Go away and leave me alone!"

Surgeon Rick nodded in acceptance, putting his new boss's sour mood down to tiredness; as much as he wanted to thank and praise him for what he had just done, he knew it would only irritate him even more. Once Morty was safely tucked away in his crib for the night, he was out in the hallway and followed the guard wherever he would take him, filled with trepidation; he didn't know what kind of state Ricktus would be in when he finally got to him, but he could make a few educated guesses.

He'd never had any reason to visit the lower levels before and didn't know what to expect - the infirmary had been part of the original structure when the Citadel of Ricks first came into existence, and so it was on the same level as the concourse. As he followed the guard into one of the elevators, he made a mental note to go exploring later; the extensions would mean new places to conduct secretive business deals, and it would have been far more interesting if his mind wasn't so preoccupied.

When the doors of the elevator opened to reveal the lowest level, the overpowering stench of filth and stale cigarettes hit him so hard that he coughed and started to gag. "Holy fucking shit... a-and I thought I was bad. Do we really live like this?"

"Ricks in the lower socioeconomic brackets do, yes." The Guard Rick responded like he couldn't have cared less. "The ones you'll meet down here in the ghetto are often so far left or right of the central finite curve that they're lucky to be allowed in the Citadel at all." He pointed ahead of him and kept walking. "Hurry up, it's this way. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can leave."

"Yeah, I hear you, bro. I totally hear you..." Surgeon Rick muttered as he clapped a hand over his mouth and nose, suddenly wishing he had taken a surgical mask down with him. As he continued to follow along, all he wanted to do was get the doctor out of there and take a shower; the air was thick with humidity and he felt sick thinking about it.

Soon enough, they came to the front steps of a grimy looking bar with no signage; the only indication that it was a bar at all were the Ricks passed out in the gutter nearby, while others wandered in and out of the open doorway in all states of inebriation. Inside was more of the same; more drunken Ricks lazed around the tables, while others sat on their own or gambled with each other. Off to one side, a large group of them were seated on a lounge and passing around the inhalation hose to a hookah, though the smell of what they were smoking from it was certainly more potent and sweeter than tobacco.

In another time in his life, Surgeon Rick might have appreciated his surroundings; it was the kind of place he would hang out in to pick up one night stands, or to get high off his face. But he was not that kind of Rick anymore.

Before he could spend more time on his thoughts, the Guard Rick grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the darkest corner. There, he found Ricktus seated at a table of his own, slumped forward, face down, and fast asleep. He was also surrounded by an excessive amount of empty wine glasses and bottles; he'd been drinking for several hours and just collapsed there.

His pants were also missing.

"Oh geez..." There was nothing useful the surgeon could say; the picture in front of him told him everything.

"Is this your guy?" The Guard Rick was impatient and nervous; the other bar patrons were staring at him and he knew all too well how they treated law enforcement down here.

"Y-yeah," Surgeon Rick quickly nodded. "Thanks for finding him. I'll make sure my boss pays you first thing in the morning."

The guard gave a salute, turned on his heels, and quickly marched out, leaving them to their own devices.

"Yo," Surgeon Rick spoke in a low voice so as not to startle the other as he cautiously approached; he was well-versed in dealing with his old boss's drunken escapades and knew exactly what to do, but he still wasn't fond of the aftercare. "I'm glad to see you alive, but it's time to go."

Ricktus didn't move.

"Hey, buddy... you gotta wake up." Reaching out to gently shake his shoulder, Surgeon Rick tried again. "You've had your fun, but you can't stay here. I'll let you sleep it off once we're back in the apartment, alright? There's a warm bed waiting for you there, and I'll set the thermostat to any temperature you want. What do you say?"

The drunken doctor made a soft groan and it took considerable effort to raise his head or focus his eyes anywhere. "F-fuck off, you stupid Rick... l-leave me alone! I'm not give... g-giving you free stuff or bothering anyone. What... w-what the hell do you want from me?!"

"Hey, chill out... it's just me." The other raised both his hands up in front of him. "You should know me pretty damn well after all this time."

"Oh... C-711? Is that you?" Ricktus made an attempt at adjusting his lopsided glasses so he could see him better, but he was far too uncoordinated and his hand soon fell back on the table. "Wh... wh-what are you doing here?"

"Coming to get YOU, stupid!" The surgeon snapped back as he became riled up. "Do you have ANY idea how long I spent looking for your dumb ass?! What the hell made you decide to come all the way down here anyway? Why can't you get drunk in the apartment like a normal Rick? We have more than enough shit to drink up there. You didn't have to waste your money in a hell-hole like this!"

Everyone in the bar was openly staring at them now, but neither Rick seemed to notice or care.

"I... d-didn't want to give B-526 any access or temptation..."

"Huh," Surgeon Rick calmed down a little; at least that part of his reasoning wasn't selfish. "I still wasted hours lookin' for you, bro. Tell me where you're going before you decide to take off next time... o-or at least answer your damn phone. It would've saved us a whole lot of hassle and money." His voice dropped low again and he furrowed his brows in concern. "Don't ever do this shit to me again... I-I thought the worst had happened to you."

"Wouldn't... w-wouldn't that be something?" Ricktus clumsily reached for the nearest bottle. "Maybe... if I keep this up, my liver will kill me as well."

"No way, man." The surgeon was quicker and moved it just out of his reach. "Just how much have you had to drink today?"

"One million alcohols!" Ricktus enthusiastically declared as he thrust both fists into the air and rushed to his feet. Because he was so drunk, the neural impulses from his brain to his prosthetic limbs were congested and they gave out from under him, causing him to crash into a heap on the floor below. "I-I... I meant to do that."

"Ooh... that's gonna leave a bruise tomorrow." Surgeon Rick cringed in sympathy. "Do you need my help standing up again? Because it's clearly time for you to go home."

"But I was just getting started..."

"Oh, you're way past that, bro. You're done." Surgeon Rick firmly shook his head and stood over him. "What happened to your pants?"

Ricktus flinched and turned his head away, suddenly deeply ashamed of himself. "I, uh... t-there was a bathroom-related incident. I-I'd rather not discuss it... don't bring it up again." The whole world seemed to violently swirl around him as he slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. "N-now that you're here, why... why don't you pull up a chair and join me? We got a... a-a lot of credits to piss away now that I'm never going to get another job or buy what I actually wanted. Help me up? I'll buy you a drink. I-I gotta... I-I still have... have my own stuff to finish off."

"See, normally at this point I would've backed down because you were my superior and stuff, but we're on the same level now." Surgeon Rick offered his hand out towards him. "Come with me. You've had enough."

"What...? I've had enough!? I've HAD ENOUGH!?" The words caused something to snap in the other, and his voice grew louder and louder with each spoken word until he was full on shouting. "I'LL TELL YOU WHEN I'VE HAD ENOUGH! YOU CAN'T JUST TELL ME TO STOP, OR DECIDE THAT I'M DRUNK!" He aggressively swatted at the air, but missed the helping hand by a long way. "THAT'S NOT YOUR DECISION! THAT'S BETWEEN ME AND MY NON-EXISTENT GOD!"

"Dude, cut it out," Surgeon Rick's voice became stern. "I'm not leaving without you. Don't make me force it... I don't wanna be the bad guy."

"News flash, C-711... we're ALL THE BAD GUY!" Ricktus continued to bellow at him, becoming fiery and enraged. "How DARE YOU COME ALL THE WAY DOWN HERE AND TELL ME WHAT TO DO! YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER! GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME TO DIE!"

The surgeon lowered his hand and just stood there; he was more than used to being yelled at by his old boss, so it was nothing new. However, as soon as it was quiet again, he bent down without another word, picked the doctor up, and hauled him over his shoulders, ignoring the new hollers of protest he received for doing so.

He knew how silly they must have looked as he exited the bar, but he didn't care; he'd stood his ground and gotten what he came for, and with some luck, Ricktus wouldn't remember any of it in the morning.

He was kicked and hit by the other's flailing limbs while they waited for the elevator, and the assault continued the whole way across the concourse. By the time they were back at the door of the apartment, the doctor's mood had changed considerably; he'd stopped fighting what was happening to him and instead fought down the desire to throw up.

"See what happens when you overdo it?" Surgeon Rick was glad to set him down again; he'd been surprisingly heavy to carry considering how scrawny and weedy Ricks usually were. "I know you have a mountain of shit to sort through, but trust me when I say that this isn't how to fix your problems... this is how you come undone." He sat down beside him. "Are you all done yelling and being a little bitch? Because the boss and his Morty are asleep in there, and the last thing they need is to hear another one of your hissy fits."

"I... I-I'm done..." Ricktus replied as he shakily ran a hand through his hair, and his shoulders sank in defeat. "I... I'm really, really fucking done... w-with everything..." He wanted to huddle up into a ball, but his legs wouldn't move for him. "G-go in without me. G-get out... go away and-" The rest of his sentence ended in a loud heave and he threw up all over himself.

"Hey, I already said I'm not leaving without you. I had to be mean about it, but don't make me a liar, too." Surgeon Rick shuffled aside and waited for him to finish; he'd been expecting it to happen any minute now, and so he wasn't in the least bit surprised. "And hey, don't worry about it - just let it all out, man. You'll feel lots better once you do, and after you're done, we'll put this behind us and never speak of it again. Agreed?"

He didn't get an answer; Ricktus was far too preoccupied.

"Yeah, OK... gimme some kinda sign when you're good enough to go back inside. And thanks for not puking all over me." Taking out his datapad to occupy himself in the meantime, he typed a message to one of the Ricks he'd done previous business with, and then began to read the latest news from the Citadel's local-information network. He hadn't even gotten halfway through the first article when he heard the doctor's breathing slowing down and had to put an arm out to stop him from falling forward into his own vomit. "I swear, you and the boss are the worst drunks I know... y'know that? The key is to stop before you puke, a-and long before it fucks up your capacity to function!"

Ricktus only gave a pitiful noise in reply; he didn't want to talk about it or any other subject anymore.

Once he was sure his colleague was more concerned with sleeping than throwing up again, he picked him up and took him straight to the bathroom inside. Not a word was said between them as Surgeon Rick stripped him down and washed him off in the shower, and by the time he'd dried him off and wrapped him up in a bathrobe, all Ricktus wanted to do was curl up and die from the combination of shame, self-hatred, and a deep loathing for all his failures. He couldn't even bring himself to look at the other as he was carried to bed, and he hid his face in the pillow as soon as he was lying down, wishing that the mattress would just swallow him up whole.

"Do you know how many times I've done this for you guys now? Too many, that's for sure!" He heard the surgeon openly complaining as he moved in behind him and felt a firm pair of hands grip his upper arm and waist, holding him securely on his side. "You're lucky I like you so much, you ungrateful prick. Just try not to be an idiot again so soon, huh?"

Despite his grumpiness, Surgeon Rick was actually quite content; he'd brought one brother back and was now keeping him safe, while the other brother slept behind him, not knowing what was going on, undisturbed by their return.

As he closed his eyes and attempted to nap, he heard the sound of the Rick in front of him violently throwing up over the side of the bed, and the sigh he made was an even mix of disappointment and disgust; now he was far less content.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Over the next several hours, Ricktus drifted in and out of consciousness; he could already feel the mother of all hangovers creeping into the edges of his mind, making him feel like death warmed up. He seriously contemplated grabbing his own pillow to suffocate himself with, but he fell into a deeper sleep before he could get too far.

Meanwhile, Rick woke up not long after him, feeling well rested, but also in a considerable amount of pain; he'd gone the whole night without topping off his medication and now he wished he hadn't. He wiped the drool off his mouth with the back of his hand and took his time sitting up; he hadn't heard Morty crying yet, which was a good thing because it gave him a break while he was still down.

When he noticed the other two Ricks beside him, he quickly shuffled to the edge of the bed to get away; he was fine with the fact that there was only one bed in the apartment, and that they'd been using it longer than he had, but he still didn't like them being so close to him.

"Fucking great... we have access to an entire multiverse filled with limitless space, a-and... you still had to get in mine."

He soon found himself more concerned with the strong, unpleasant smell in the air and screwed up his face in disgust; he knew exactly what it was and what it meant, and just hoped he could find it before he stepped in it.

Standing up rather slowly so as not to aggravate his injuries, Rick made his way into the bathroom to take care of his next, most-outstanding issue. After rendering it completely uninhabitable, he came out with an amused grin; he was every bit as childish and immature as his dimensional counterparts in that aspect.

His first task of the day was to get into the document boxes and organize them, but as soon as he sat down on the couch with the first one, he discovered that the reading material inside was so dry and boring that it was sure to put him back to sleep again before too long. The second box contained more of the same, so he shoved the lid back on and kicked it under the table.

He didn't even bother turning around when he heard the pitiful groan behind him. "Morning. Sounds like one of you had a long night."

Ricktus didn't want to answer; he wanted to die instead, but was fast coming to the horrible realization that he wasn't actually going to. His stomach was doing flip-flops and preparing for another assault, while his body ached all over and his head pounded like someone was hitting it with a sledgehammer. He also discovered that he was naked except for the bathrobe somebody had put him in, which raised some concerning questions; he had no recollection of the night before, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know how he came to be that way or not.

He did know one thing for certain, however; he never wanted to move again.

"Do you want coffee?" Rick offered as he picked up the small computer that had been given to him along with his gold badge, figuring that now was as good a time as any to start learning how to use it. "Though you'd probably prefer aspirin considering the kind of night you've had."

"Oh really? S-so... so you're the one making the diagnoses now?" Ricktus made a weak attempt at humor, but ended up cringing at his own weak-and-scratchy voice instead; he sounded as bad as he felt. "I might be your subordinate, but I'm still more qualified than you in... in... f-fuck it. You know what I mean."

"Is this a serviced apartment?" Rick wondered aloud, half to himself. "Will somebody come in to clean the puke stains out of my carpet, or am I expected to do that myself?"

"T-that's not..." Ricktus shook his head, only to regret it. "That job is far beneath you... g-get me to do it. It's my fault."

"Maybe you should concentrate on standing first." Rick suggested. "It sounds like you're not going anywhere for a while."

The doctor bit his lower lip, then started to apologize. "Damn it, I should have consulted with you before taking off. I-I wasn't thinking, and-"

"Shut up!" Rick barked over the top of him. "I don't wanna hear it. You have every right to exercise your freedom, even if you regret it later on. Whatever you do, you gotta own it."

"Wait, so... y-you're not angry with me...?"

"No? Why would I be angry at you for getting shitfaced?" A dry, bitter laugh escaped him. "Isn't that what Ricks do? I would have gladly joined you if I could have!"

Surgeon Rick had woken up during the conversation, but pretended to remain asleep; he didn't want to interrupt, and it was nice to hear them talking instead of arguing with each other for once. When he felt the weight beside him suddenly shift and move away, he sat up and watched the doctor rushing into the bathroom.

He didn't need to guess what the problem was.

"Uh, you might not wanna go in there for a while." Rick tried to warn him, but it was too late; the door had already slammed shut. "Well, if he wasn't throwing up before, he is now..."

Surgeon Rick smothered a chuckle. "That bad?"

"Yeah. I'm sure this is way too much info, but," Rick put the lid back on the first document box and pushed it under the table with the second. "That bathroom probably violates several human rights and could be used as a torture device." He gently patted his stomach. "Man, I don't know if I'm just getting old or if it's part of the healing process, but something's definitely not right in there."

"Gee, if only you knew a qualified doctor who could assess you, right?" The surgeon mused with a grin before his expression turned serious. "Hey, I gotta speak up about last night - you did me a real solid and I'm not gonna forget it. Now I gotta do one in return and fill your prescriptions. Did you want anything else while I'm out? Like, coffee, breakfast, or the Citadel newspaper?"

"You never came back with my pizza, did you?" Rick grumbled, but there was no anger in his voice. "Coffee's fine, but if you're bringing back food, then grab anything that actually resembles it... no mush this time. A-and no ice cream, either!"

"Yes, sir!" Surgeon Rick gave him a mock salute and hopped off the bed, making his way to the bathroom door. "Hey, how are you holding up in there? Did you need me to grab you something as well, or did you just want wafer cookies and the usual hangover crap?" When he did not get an immediate answer, he knocked hard. "Bro? Are you even alive?"

"I-I... I am," the response came after a few more moments of silence. "I-I wish I wasn't, though..."

"Harden the fuck up and quit being such a baby about it. You reap what you sew, dude." Surgeon Rick's voice had turned half-mocking, half-scolding. He gave the door another thump for good measure and headed to exit the apartment. "See ya later, fuckers. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone."

Giving the curtains a curious glance, Rick set his computer aside so he could get up and give them an experimental tug. After drawing them open to let more light in, he discovered that he had a small balcony and opened the sliding-glass door to step outside. Although he knew that the domed ceiling high above him was nothing more than a screen simulating pictures of a blue sky, he was still impressed by the random cloud formations that lazily drifted across its massive glass surface. He took a deep breath of warm, generated, fake air and spent several moments admiring the view; it was quite adequate, even if it was meant to be an average, silver-ranked Rick's apartment.

Satisfied, the scientist came back inside and returned to the couch so he could go through the Citadel network's extensive library of collected knowledge. He was pleasantly surprised to learn that his gold-rank gave him access to pretty much everything he could ever want.

He was halfway through ordering some books to be sent up to his room when he heard the heavy footsteps clunking towards him, and watched Ricktus in his peripheral vision as he pulled the bathrobe closed around himself and sat down on the same cushion he had chosen earlier.

Rick didn't bother looking up. "H-hey. Are you feeling better?"

"Marginally..." The doctor leaned forwards and placed his head in his hands; he felt like it was going to explode.

"Oh yeah, that's gonna happen. When you drink, you're just borrowing tomorrow's happiness." Rick nudged one of the boxes under the coffee table towards the other's feet. "Here. When you feel like reading, that shit will keep you occupied for at least a few days. I'll even pay you for your time if you wanna do it for me."

Ricktus raised his head and seemed to come alive again at the words, disregarding how bad he felt. "You... you have work for me?" He took the top papers out of the box and began to flip through them. "These are... I-I don't think I'm meant to be looking at any of this."

"Phh, nonsense," Rick waved it off. "Just read it, gimme the short version, and forge my signature when you sign off on it."

"I'm not sure that my skill set is appropriate for what you're asking..." Ricktus sat up properly, becoming more and more interested as he read the current page more closely. "Holy shit, t-this is... they've given you the Mortytorium to read."

"The... what?"

"The Mortytorium," Ricktus reiterated. "You weren't here when it happened, but there was an assembly called to decide whether or not to ban the practice of buying and selling Mortys. The Citadel population was evenly divided, and so were the Council. It was a debate that turned into an argument, and then it was silenced."

Rick stopped what he was doing and finally looked up. "What happened?"

"I-it turned ugly... there were good points on both sides." Ricktus explained as he placed the papers in his lap. "The ones who voted against it believed that orphaned Mortys should be paired with Ricks who best suit their personality types, but knowing Ricks... M-Mortys would just be trafficked and sold on the black market instead." He placed a hand on his forehead to soothe his splitting headache, also suppressing his own feelings on the subject. "At least if... if Morty trading continues to be legal, then they can regulate the market, and ensure fair distribution... s-supposedly."

Rick gave a small shrug and finished up with his book order. "You're the one in charge of my paperwork now, so vote any way you want."

"Y-you... you don't care?" The doctor stared at him incredulously. "This was a huge issue not long ago. I would have thought that you of all Ricks would have a strong opinion on the buying and selling of Mortys."

"It's more that your opinion is probably the same as mine." Rick told him. "I don't have the patience to deal with this stuff, i-it's boring. I hate paperwork... you'd be better at it than me. You've known about the Citadel longer, and besides, you're more up to date with stuff around here. The stupid gold badge was given to me because of your misfortune and losses. It should be yours, not mine."

"B-but Rick... t-that's not... stop being so modest. You earned that badge for multiple reasons, a-and you know that." The other forcefully stuffed his feelings down and tapped his papers to get back on topic. "You're a leader. T-that's why you've been given all these documents - to read them, and to familiarize yourself with the Citadel's current affairs. A good leader is an educated one. Preparedness makes us powerful."

"You do it," Rick was becoming frustrated. "And before you blindly accept it, it's not an order. I'm just giving it to you so you have something useful to do for me. Understand?"

"I think so," Ricktus nodded, but ended up looking confused. "Wait, s-so... it's not an order, but you want me to do it? When is an order not an order? You're contradicting yourself again."

"Ugh... shut up." Rick groaned and placed his head in his hands; he could feel a headache of his own coming on.

In the next moment, the door to the apartment suddenly flew open, and Surgeon Rick came inside carrying an assortment of plastic bags, as well as a full cardboard coffee-cup holder. "Hey, hey! Am I a good friend or what? Guess what I just did for you guys." He enthusiastically bounded over to the table and dumped his bags straight down on top of it. "I hope you like drugs and coffee!"

Unfortunately for him, Morty was startled awake and immediately began to cry about it. When he discovered that he was alone in his crib, his cry grew into a loud wail until he was practically screaming in fear.

"Great job, you dummy... l-look what you just did!" Rick hissed as he got up to deal with it.

Despite the intensity of the cries, Rick managed to calm Morty down again within a few short moments. Just holding him and being there seemed to fix most of the problem, and once they were back on the couch in the main room of the apartment, Morty was more or less back to his regular old self.

Meanwhile, Ricktus clutched at his stomach, turned off by the smell of food. "Th-thanks for thinking of me, but I don't want-" He covered his mouth and dashed into the bathroom to be sick again.

"Geez, that should've stopped by now... sounds like he's got alcohol poisoning." Surgeon Rick was thinking aloud. "Fortunately, I have just the thing for that." He reached into one of the plastic bags and took out a syringe that had already been prepared. "Yo, all your shit is in there, too. Make sure you take it." Without waiting for a reply, he walked into the bathroom and stood behind the doctor, then flicked the tail of his bathrobe aside and jabbed him in the left buttock while he was still bent over the toilet.

"Hey! Wh-what are you doing to me?!"

"Violating your personal space and taking care of you, dumb-dumb."

Rick took his own medication and sipped his coffee while he did his best to ignore the noise; all he wanted was to keep reading in peace. He soon got his wish though, and the apartment was quiet again within another ten minutes – Morty occupied himself by wiggling off the couch and playing with blocks on the floor, while Ricktus returned to his place on the couch and resumed sorting through the document boxes he'd been given. He wasn't exactly sure what Surgeon Rick was doing as he watched him pacing around the apartment, but he was relieved when he heard the door knocking again and he didn't have to get up.

"Yo, which one of you morons ordered the books?" The surgeon took them from the delivery Rick and read the titles aloud, snickering. "'Aeronautics and Interplanetary Travel'? 'Quantum Physics For Beginners'? Neeeeeeeerd!"

"It was me, and they're for you, so technically, you're the nerd in this case." Rick rolled his eyes. "You said you wanted to learn about space, so here's your big chance. Pick a subject that interests you and write me an essay by the end of next week. Got it?"

Surgeon Rick mumbled something under his breath as his shoulders sank and his good mood deflated. "Aww man... I don't wanna read. I just wanna get out there and do the shit!"

"How are you gonna learn how to do the shit if you don't read about it first?"

"Good point, boss," the surgeon tossed the books onto the bed and picked one to start going through, "but it still feels like a chore."

"Shut up," Rick grumbled back. "Reading isn't going to kill you."

Surgeon Rick made a disappointed hum and was grinning all over again. "Pity."

Ricktus ignored the conversation and looked up from his papers. "What's your opinion on allowing non-Ricks into the Citadel?"

Rick considered it for a moment before answering. "Favorable."

Just as the room went quiet again, Rick leaned back to watch them; he figured that if he kept them occupied and busy with things to do, then maybe, just maybe they would be OK. He also knew that he still had to do what was best for Morty, but he still had no idea what that was yet. If only he could work that out, then he could consider his time in the Citadel well spent, instead of time wasted.

"Uh, seriously..." He frowned as an earlier concern suddenly came back to mind. "Is somebody coming in here to clean up the puke, o-or what?"


	33. When The Ricks Are Down

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** This is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an [Adult Swim] cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. Don't sue me because I'm a broke Aussie and you're more likely to get payment in crocodiles, boomerangs, and dollarydoos. Crikey and stuff.

 **NOTE:** Keep leaving reviews and commentary and stuff if you like the content. I really miss the R &M Fandom being active. :(

* * *

 **Chapter 33 - When The Ricks Are Down  
** **  
December 15th, 11:38pm,** **Citadel Time, 2001  
** **Cross-Temporal Rift Nebula, Location Classified  
** **Citadel Of Ricks, Dimension Number Classified**

* * *

 _Morty,_

 _Someday, I'll explain it all to you. One day you'll understand why they came, what they wanted, why everything is my fault, and why I made the decisions I did in the weeks that followed._

 _You may not agree with them, hell... I don't agree with some of them myself. You may also choose to hate me for what I've done and that's fine because I deserve it. I shouldn't be your hero, either. I'm more like a super-fucked-up, egotistical-_

* * *

Rick became discouraged and crumpled up the piece of paper on which he had been writing. He buried his head in his hands and clutched at his hair, deeply frustrated; he'd mentally gone over what he wanted to say more than a dozen times, but no matter how he worded it, it still didn't feel right to him.

"Yo, what are you doin' up?" He heard Surgeon Rick come up from behind, and then his shadow fell on the surface of his workstation as the man peered over his shoulder. "Dude, you're not seriously still working on writing shit down, are ya? This is the exact kind of thing you were told not to do. You need rest, man."

Before Rick could say or do anything else, the surgeon had reached over and turned off his desk lamp.

"Hey, what the fuck?! I needed that! I wasn't doing that at all, damn it!" Rick protested as the room was plunged into darkness. "I-I was, uh..." He became quiet and the rest was an indecipherable mutter under his breath. "N-never mind. I think I'm just gonna go to bed like you said."

"Oh, no way, bro. You don't get to do that now. You can't just start something and expect me to walk away when you don't finish it." Surgeon Rick pestered him by repeatedly jabbing him in the shoulder with a pointed finger. "Now you gotta tell me, 'cause I'm not leaving you alone until you do."

"Great..." The scientist turned in his chair and grabbed the surgeon's hand to make him stop. "Can you not?"

"Yeah, but I also can." Surgeon Rick retorted with a wide grin. "Tell me."

"Ugh, fine!" Rick gave in quickly; although he didn't want to talk, he knew that it would make him go away faster. "I decided to start trying to write a letter to my grandson, because I know he's going to ask me about everything someday. But every time I start, I find that it just doesn't work... how do you tell someone you ruined everything for them and not have them hate you for it? Because I hate myself and I deserve to die."

"Wow... sounds like more content for your therapist." Surgeon Rick said it in the same teasing tone, but he was being serious this time. "Why don't you just go with that? People are more likely to be accepting of your experiences if you honestly tell them how it is and what you're going through. It worked for my kid. It'll probably work for yours."

As quickly as it started to sting, Rick could feel himself shut down; his protective mechanisms had kept him from falling apart for years and he wasn't about to stop them, especially now that he couldn't bandage his hurt with alcohol. "Or, I could just not bother..." He picked up the crumpled ball and threw it into the trashcan like all the others before it.

"Yeah, see how long that works out for you." Surgeon Rick half-grumped in reply as he pried his hand out of the other's grip. "Secrets are toxic. Sitting on them can do you harm, just like trying to hold in a bad fart. Just air out the truth and let it stink for a while. It'll dissipate in time."

"...are we still talking about my grandson or a hypothetical fart?"

"Both," the other was grinning all over again. "Don't torture yourself and save it for when he's ready. It may shock him initially, but he's likely to get it and I don't think he'll hate you for it. If he's smart like us, he'll understand." He gave the scientist a singular, reassuring pat on the back and turned to walk away. "Go to sleep, bro... don't think about it until the time comes."

Rick just silently sat in the chair as he heard the other move around in the dark and return to bed, though the talk hadn't made him feel better.

He wasn't going to tell Morty the truth.

He was NEVER going to tell him.

* * *

 **37 hours earlier...**

* * *

Even though the morning had gotten off to a rough start, the occupants of Rick's apartment were quiet as they each engaged in their own separate activities. And even though Ricktus had not consented to the injection in his butt, he was already feeling better because of it.

That was, until he started reading through the medical records that had been included in the second document box; he spent at least twenty more minutes going over everything to get his facts straight before he spoke up about his discovery.

"Uh, B-526?" He began; he'd already considered approaching the subject delicately, but decided it would be better if he just got straight to the point. "I'm sure this was meant to be private information, but I've found a referral from the Citadel's medical team for you to visit Therapist Rick for a minimum of two, half-hour sessions. Did you know about that? Or were you just not going to say anything and avoid it?"

Rick shrugged; although the correct answer had already been guessed, he still acted like he didn't care. "The leader of the trash pile demanded that I go, but I don't wanna."

"It concerns your mental health and well-being, so you have to." The doctor told him as he sat up properly, his tone turning clinical and firm. "You're going to make a poor leader if you can't even look after yourself first. Therapy will give you a non-judgmental outlet to air your thoughts, grief, and concerns. You need to talk to someone instead of blocking out your feelings or pretending that they don't exist."

"Says you!" Rick angrily hissed back. "Why don't you practice what you preach first? You're as bad as me, i-if not worse. And if I'm batshit crazy, then you must be a fucking nutcase!"

Ricktus didn't take the bait and flattened his brow. "Classic deflection behavior. You can't keep pretending that nothing affects you. Take it from me when I say that I know how hard it is to talk about your experiences. But it's for your own good... it could literally save your life."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not getting back into that subject again." He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "I-I don't need therapy, I'm fine... I don't wanna go, and you can't fucking make me!" He petulantly declared and stamped his foot on the floor.

Morty stared up at the strange behavior with wide eyes; his favorite person was having another temper tantrum and he couldn't work out why.

Surgeon Rick glanced up from his book as well; he was getting used to listening to the arguments between his old boss and his new one, but that didn't mean it was a good thing. "Hey, we know it sucks... no Rick in his right mind would ever wanna go to therapy. But none of us are exactly in our right minds, are we?"

Rick only shot back a nasty glare and said nothing.

Meanwhile, Ricktus took insult to the next couple of pages as he flipped through them. "And it looks like the Infirmary Ricks got lazy. They've basically copycatted my own notes from when I was in charge." He started reading them aloud. "Your official orders straight from the top are: 'You must not exert yourself. Rest often, stay hydrated, eat light meals, no heavy lifting, keep taking your prescription medication, and you're on light duties for the next six weeks'. Now, they're simple enough to follow, but if we factor in how stubborn you can be, then you might find yourself in trouble again before long. I know we can't tell you what to do, but we can still enforce those instructions. Don't be an idiot and start taking better care of yourself. Can we agree on that?"

"Bite me!" It was an automatic response. "I don't want you watching over me like I'm a child!"

"I'll take that as a 'yes', then."

"Well, now that we're on the subject of reading into each other's bullshit, can I request a copy of all your notes on me?" Rick made a show of grumpily folding his arms. "I want all your original-serum-project crap while I'm at it."

"Why?" Ricktus dipped a brow in suspicion, then cleared his throat and corrected himself. "I mean, of course you could. You're only one rank below the Council themselves, so you have the authorization to request practically anything you want. I mean no disrespect by asking this, but why would you want to read into my notes and research? You've never been interested in developing medicines."

"Because maybe I can do something to speed up this 'six week' thing." Rick made air-quotes with his fingers. "Do you really think I'm gonna enjoy sitting around the apartment all day, every day? I've only been here for just a little over 24 hours and I'm already bored!"

"Ah, about that," rather than rising to meet the scientist's bad attitude with his own, the doctor reached back into the first document box and pulled out a stack of forms. "You don't have to stay in the apartment. Once you're well enough, you'll be so busy that you'll barely have any time to spend here. The Council also wanted you to be comfortable and to make yourself at home, so use these to apply for special requests. You might want to give your new living space your own personal touches, I don't know. It's your choice."

"I want a motorbike," Rick demanded straight away. "If I have to travel around the Citadel, then I wanna do it in style."

"I strongly advise against that," Ricktus formally returned. "Need I remind you that you're still recovering from surgery? You wouldn't want to risk exacerbating your injuries or crashing."

"A moped? How about an electric scooter? Their top speed is so slow that you'd have to be a fucking moron to crash one." The scientist was definitely testing him now. "Plus it'd be fun to get around on something with wheels."

"I'll... see what I can do." The other answered reluctantly, then started to write it down. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, I want a new guitar. If I'm gonna be here a while, then I might as well keep myself entertained. And a workstation so I can tinker and keep on inventing stuff." Rick began to list off more items as quickly as they came to mind. "While we're at it, I also want some antigravity generators... three of them. Make sure they're pocket-sized. And a holo-projector for Morty's room with the coordinates preset to Earth. Oh, and an espresso machine... a-a good one, none of that drip percolator crap. And you know that device you used to track Rick brainwaves? I want one of those, too."

"Why do you want all of that?"

"...reasons."

"Is that everything?" Ricktus exhaled a deep sigh as he added it all to the list; none of the requested items sounded like they could cause harm, so he had no authorization to question his motives for wanting them. "I can't see any of this being denied, but some of it just seems so... random. But if that's what you want, boss, then I'll make it so."

"You're lucky you have a hangover," Rick's tone turned into a sharp warning. "Because I'm going to fucking bitch-slap you if you dare call me that one more time."

"You gotta stop calling him 'boss', boss... for reals." As Surgeon Rick spoke, he sounded like he was only vaguely paying attention; he didn't want to admit it, but he'd become thoroughly engrossed in his book. "Is it really so hard to respect such a simple request?"

"Respecting an order that specifically requests to disrespect him... I feel like I've been over the issues I have with this problem more than enough times." Ricktus grumbled aloud to himself.

With an uncomfortable grunt and a lot of effort, Rick set his laptop aside and sat on the floor next to Morty. "H-hey, little buddy. I can see you're struggling there... your building technique is all wrong. Y-you gotta widen the base if you want your structure to stand the test of time. Have you seen pictures of the pyramids in Egypt yet? They were built by slavery, but whatever... so was half the crap in the universe. Point is, some of those pyramids are over 3,000 years old. Did you ever stop to think about stuff like that?"

Morty blankly stared at him as he raised the block in his hand high over his head; he was far too young to have any understanding of his grandfather's words. His attention was quickly drawn back to his building project, and he smashed his tower down, giggling at the loud, clattering sounds it made.

Picking up one of the fallen blocks to inspect more closely, Rick openly expressed his disapproval. "Yeah, good idea, buddy. Of course these things are gonna keep falling over - their volume-to-surface area ratio is fucking dismal, a-and there's not even anything on them to hold them in place. There's gotta be better stacking toys out there on the market than these. This product is inferior, and it makes me angry!" He launched the block out the open door to the balcony and started arranging the fallen pile into something more sturdy.

As Ricktus looked on, he was intrigued; the Rick before him was a deadly force and a wanted terrorist. He'd fought in multiple wars, was capable of destroying and liberating entire worlds, and had saved countless lives including his own. And yet, there was something oddly bizarre about watching him engage in such a simple-and-innocent activity like playing with his own grandson.

Every time he looked at them, it was also an unwelcome reminder of his own losses.

"Would you... like me to add a box of interlocking-brick toys to your shopping list?" He quietly suggested and began writing it down before he had gotten an answer. "They can encourage early fine-motor skills and hand-eye coordination."

"Yeah? So would a soldering iron and a screwdriver, and you can do way more productive things with them." Rick muttered back. "So I can go anywhere I want, right? Would either of you object if I visit Birdperson and let him know that I'm still alive? Those wooden toys I made for Morty are still in his tree house... I-I gotta go back and get 'em."

"You're free to go anywhere you want," the doctor reiterated the statement, "but make sure you take your gold pin with you. You'll have a much easier time of getting back into the Citadel if you can prove that you're important and a Rick of interest."

"Yeah? I'm gonna take your suggestion, but only because I like the convenience and the time-saving aspect." Rick reached across the coffee table and gently picked it up. "Don't ever forget that we're the same person - we're identical and we all have the same IQ. I don't think that any kind of preferential treatment is cool, and it's only going to breed dissension and classism... i-it's dangerous, and if you need another reason to stop calling me your boss, well, there you go." He braced his arms on either side of himself and made a slow attempt at standing up again, but gave up when the movement caused him too much pain and discomfort.

Surgeon Rick's attention had since been drawn towards his new boss as well, and after witnessing him struggle, he was quick to abandon his book and move over to assist him. "Hey, are you sure you wanna go back there so soon? Don't push yourself too hard, man. You still need rest."

Rick bared his teeth and immediately went on the defensive. "Don't tell me what to do! I know what I'm capable of!"

"Do you now?" The surgeon still offered his hand out despite the other's complaints. "Lemme help you, brother. It's OK to ask for it every now and then, you know. It's what we're here for."

Reluctantly, Rick grabbed it and averted his glare away as he was practically hauled back to his feet. "W-what do you want from me? My gratitude?"

"Fuck no, 'cause we both know that ain't happening with your pride, don't we?" Surgeon Rick laughed back at him and shook his head. "You don't need anyone to take care of you but you."

"I... I can't tell if you're pandering to my ego or making some sort of joke about us being the same person."

"Why not both?" Surgeon Rick flashed him another wide grin and gently patted him on the back. "Go on, bro. Get out there and do what you gotta. Do you need us to come with?"

"Phh, noooo!" Rick childishly snapped back. "I'll be there and back within ten minutes. I don't need you babysitting me all the time." After finding his portal gun on the bedside table, he fired it at the apartment door and called out to his grandson. "Come on, Morty, let's get outta here. We need a change of scenery and I bet that Birdperson probably wants to know you're OK as well." He seemed far happier as he walked towards the neon-green, swirling vortex.

Morty gave a yelp and ran in straight after him; the thought of being left behind was far more scary than any portal could have ever been.

After the interdimensional gateway had swallowed up its travelers and collapsed in on itself, Surgeon Rick sat down beside the doctor and picked up his new boss's laptop, curious to see what he'd just been looking at. "Do you think he'll come back this time?"

"It doesn't matter what I think." Ricktus did not look up and kept himself busy with forms, the paperwork obscuring his eyes.

"But did you see what just happened? Unlike you, he told us where he was going." Surgeon Rick mused, then lightly punched him in the arm. "Lead by example."

* * *

 **December 14th 4:45am, Local Time, 2001  
Birdperson's Tree House  
** **Bird World, Dimension B-526**

* * *

Rain fell from the sky in a cascading torrent and Rick was soaked to the skin as soon as he'd stepped onto the landing of Birdperson's tree house. He released a fed-up sigh, peered in the nearest window, then made his way inside. Morty hastily followed his lead and loudly whimpered in discomfort as he tracked sloppy, wet footprints across the wooden floor.

From the moment he was standing in the living room, Rick could tell that something was off about the place: it was far too quiet, even with all the heavy rain hammering on the roof overhead. Although his surroundings were tidy and looked the same as they always did whenever he visited, further inspection of the other rooms revealed more of the same; it was far too cold and dark for his liking, even though the sun was still well below the horizon. When he peered in through the doorway to the main nest room, he realized that he was alone in the house with Morty – Birdperson's nest was empty.

He wasn't there, and neither was Squanchy.

Rick's guess back in Surgeon Rick's garage had been right on the money – they'd already left to join the resistance movement's second uprising.

His shoulders sank in disappointment; he knew he should have been expecting it to happen any day now, but it still wasn't what he wanted to find. As he continued to stand there, he felt a pang of guilt; over the years, he'd dropped into Birdperson's house many times without an invitation, and would leave again without saying anything. Now the tables were turned and he knew what it felt like - he hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye.

"I-I'm a bad friend..." With a resigning sigh, Rick used his portal gun to open a portal to the neighboring tree house and waited for Morty to catch up so he could step in.

He instinctively braced himself when he came out the other side this time, not wanting to be grabbed or hugged by the fat bird woman. However, Gresharak's house was just like Birdperson's – cold and dark, and it looked like it had been deserted as well.

"What the hell is going on around here...?" Rick opened more portals to check the other tree houses nearby, but nobody was home in those either.

It wasn't long before he discovered that the entire treetop community had been abandoned.

Confusion grew into alarm as Rick quickly inspected his surroundings for signs of a scuffle or a firefight, but when he found nothing, it eased his mind again and he began to put all of the pieces together. He already knew that if a large portion of the population was off fighting another intergalactic war, then it would leave their home vulnerable and wide open; he'd given Birdperson a backup portal gun for that exact same reason. Now he concluded that they must have taken his advice to heart and moved their loved ones elsewhere; it was a preemptive, strategic move to protect them from being attacked by the Galactic Federation on their own doorstep.

Rick could only wish he'd been given the same forewarning and enough time to have made the same decision.

"Come, Morty..." His voice was deflated as he looked down at his dripping-wet grandson. "All we can do now is grab our stuff and go."

Morty miserably hugged his grandfather's left leg with both arms, shivering as he held on tighter; being so little meant that he was far more susceptible to the cold.

"Yeah, yeah... if I'd known that we were gonna get saturated like this, I would've brought an umbrella. This is my fault and I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you." He ignored the discomfort as he picked the youngster up and carried him away with him.

Once they were back in Birdperson's tree house, Rick made his way into the spare nest room and gathered up Morty's wooden toys, as well as the other meager possessions he still had a use for. He also wished that he had given Birdperson a tracking device along with the backup portal gun and distress beacon so he could easily find him again someday.

"It's a big, bad universe out there, Birdperson... don't get yourself killed, OK?" He glanced at the few stars he could see between the clouds outside his window and began talking to them as if Birdperson was there and listening; it was the only send-off he could offer him now. "Good luck, friend... you were always good to me, a-and I hope our paths cross again someday. May the wind always be at your back."

With that, he opened a portal to return to the Citadel, not looking back; there was nothing left for him on Bird World anymore.

* * *

 **December 14th, 10:55am, Citadel Time, 2001  
** **Cross-Temporal Rift Nebula, Location Classified  
** **Citadel Of Ricks, Dimension Number Classified**

* * *

By the time Rick had made it all the way back to the front door of his apartment, he was exhausted; walking was made more difficult than usual due to the uncomfortably wet-and-heavy clothes clinging to his body, while his hair stuck to his face in dripping-wet clumps.

When he patted himself down and realized he didn't have a key, he knocked instead.

It only took a moment for the door to swing open, and Surgeon Rick stared back at him before grabbing him by the arm and yanking him inside.

"Hey, hey, HEY! Be careful, I-I'm still carrying Morty!" Rick loudly objected. "What are you doing to me!?"

"Don't hey-hey me. Didn't anyone give you the memo that you weren't supposed to get wet?" The surgeon was none too gentle about dragging the scientist across the room and pushed him down onto the bed. "Oh man, this ain't gonna sound right no matter how I say it, but I need you to strip." He turned towards his colleague without missing a beat. "Yo, we got a bit of a problem here. Drop your shit and come look."

Ricktus was still fighting the residual effects of his hangover and was initially annoyed by the disturbance, but his demeanor changed when he saw the situation and he got up to retrieve the first-aid kit from its place in the cupboards above the kitchenette. "How bad is it? Without knowing that, it would be better to move him to-"

"NO!" Rick's reaction was immediate and fiery. "Why are you so adamantly crazy about putting me back in the infirmary? I hate it there! I don't have any freedom and it's uncomfortable... plus I don't want any more strange Ricks poking and prodding me ever again. They have NO personal boundaries." He placed Morty on the bed beside him and aggressively threw his sopping-wet lab coat onto the floor, causing the items in the inner pockets to scatter. "Come up with a better idea!"

Ricktus and Surgeon Rick exchanged the same apprehensive glance and began a clinical back and forth between each other.

"Well, uh... he doesn't look like he's in too much distress, does he?" The surgeon scratched the back of his head in thought. "If he just went away to talk to people, then how much damage could he do to himself?"

"Don't underestimate him. He can hide things exceptionally well." Ricktus reminded him as he carried the first-aid kit to the bed. "If he ripped his stitches, then opening him up here would be a very bad idea indeed. Can you see blood?"

Surgeon Rick lifted the bottom of Rick's shirt and retracted his hand before he could be swatted away. "Nope. Which means it's probably not that bad, but... we'd be dumb if we didn't check it out further. Better one of us than some weirdo from the medical team, right?"

"You ARE some weirdo from the medical team."

"Hey, fuck you, I'm awesome." There was a pause. "Do you remember how to do sutures?"

"I should hope so - it goes with the territory in our line of work." Ricktus handed him a pair of blue-nitrile gloves. "But I suggest you take these. You have better eyesight, so you should do it."

"Great, you're volunteering me for the job? What are you gonna do in the meantime? Stand there and look pretty?" Surgeon Rick grumbled as he pulled them on with a snap and faced Rick with his gloved hands in the air. "This is where it gets worse, man. Lie down."

Rick did as he was instructed, but seemed determined to show as much contempt as possible.

"It's called 'supervising', C-711. I suggest you get started." The doctor smugly answered, then placed a pair of scissors within easy reach of the other's hands. "Be careful where you cut. You won't know how bad it is until you're inside."

"Oh wow, that's... wow, bro. I'm blown away by your knowledge and expertise. What textbook did you have to read to figure that out?" With another grumble under his breath, the surgeon gently pried off Rick's shirt and carefully snipped through the layers of soaking-wet bandage.

When he peeled them away, he was completely underwhelmed by what he found underneath – there was nothing but a slightly damp row of stitches that were still perfectly intact, and some old, yellowing bruises across his patient's belly and ribcage; everything was healing up nicely.

"It... it IS nothing." He announced in the most unenthusiastic tone possible.

"Nothing is good in this situation. Sometimes it's the best you can hope for." Ricktus relaxed again and shrugged it off like it hadn't concerned him in the first place. "Phh, you were worried about nothing. Typical." He shook his head and moved away to retrieve some towels from the bathroom. "You've forgotten how to treat your patients clinically, C-711. One day it will come back to bite you."

"Screw you, pal! It's called giving a shit... maybe you never heard of it before? If you want me to stop giving a shit, then maybe I should forget about hauling your ass outta the next bar you try drinking yourself to death in." Surgeon Rick warned before deciding that Rick was more important. "Yo, just to ease my mind here, do you feel any numbness or pain?" He gave the wound site a cautious prod with two gloved fingers.

"Physical or existential?" Rick was both smug and defiant.

"Smartass." Surgeon Rick let out a long sigh and a flat expression came over his face; he didn't have the patience to deal with two bad attitudes today. "Any chance of me gettin' a real answer here?"

"I'm just fine. Now shut up and finish what you started so I can dry myself off!" The scientist's tone had become short and irritated, as if he expected his instructions to be obeyed.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, boss... get back to work and stuff." The reply was disgruntled as the surgeon set out the rest of the supplies he needed to get on with the job.

"Ugh, cut it out. I didn't mean it like that." Rick made an uncomfortable sound in the back of his throat. "Look at it this way... would you wanna be me, right here, right now? I'm in a compromised position, and I'm sick to death of being watched and doted over so much. I don't wanna be here anymore, I-I need to keep my mind occupied and do stuff!"

"Well no, I wouldn't wanna be you," Surgeon Rick agreed, "but it's not gonna be forever, so cut out the shit and chill, OK? You're really bumming me out."

The room went quiet again, at least until Ricktus had returned with towels. Nothing was said for a short time, but Surgeon Rick twitched with curiosity while he worked until he couldn't contain himself any longer.

"So how in the fresh hell did you end up so wet, and how did it go with your bird dude friend?"

"I got rained on. Duh." Rick stared at him like it should have been obvious. "And it didn't go at all. Birdperson already left, and I have no idea where he went, o-or how to find him again."

"Oh... bummer. That really sucks." He knew it was a stupid thing to say, but it was all he could offer.

"Yeah, kinda..." Rick kept his expression subdued and turned his gaze towards the ceiling; his heart still fiercely ached for revenge against the Galactic Federation, even though his sense of logic told him how impractical it was in his current predicament.

He tried to forcefully push it out of his mind again; Morty's welfare was far more important.

"Hey, can one of you dry off my grandson? I would, but," he raised both hands a little to demonstrate how useless he was. "Well, see for yourself."

Suddenly, without warning or even a knock, the front door of the apartment flew open again and a group of Ricks in various uniforms came inside with boxed deliveries, while another two of them dragged a heavy-looking table towards the corner nearest the balcony.

"Wow, is that all my new stuff? That was fast." Rick appreciated the distraction and suddenly seemed more interested in watching the next set of Ricks that came in to clean and vacuum the apartment.

"Nothing happens slowly in the Citadel, B-526." Ricktus stated it like it was fact as he held onto a cranky, squirming Morty and removed his wet clothes. "And on that note, you got mail while you were out. I didn't open it because of the official Council of Ricks wax seal on the back, but I can if you want me to." The tiniest spark of amusement cracked through his otherwise serious expression as he tossed a towel over the young boy and rubbed him dry; it had somehow turned into a game and the grumpy noises turned into small giggles.

Rick smacked his forehead in frustration; he was thoroughly sick of repeating himself. "Oh, come on! I told you that you're in charge of my paperwork now, so I don't care what you choose to read. How important can it be?"

"Well, a mark like that usually indicates strict confidentiality, but..." Ricktus spent a short amount of time deliberating between moving and staying put, but curiosity won over and he retreated to retrieve the mail from where he left it. However, his face fell as soon as he had opened it, and he became more and more discontent the further he read on.

"What is it?" Surgeon Rick gently prompted; he was closely watching the other in his peripheral vision and wasn't going to let it pass. "Talk to me."

"It's... i-it's..." Ricktus struggled to read it out loud, but composed himself with a forced exhale and got on with it anyway. "Rick B-526 has a date for his gold-badge-induction ceremony – it's going to be at the end of next week on December 23rd. They want him to give a formal acceptance speech, and he can have the floor for as long as he wants." He paused momentarily before continuing. "There's... also going to be a live Morty auction at the same assembly." He took a photo out of the envelope and went quiet as his eyes fixated on it; the writer of the letter had even thought to include a picture of the Morty up for auction.

"I see." Surgeon Rick awkwardly clenched his jaw, not knowing what to say. "Soooo... is now a bad time to ask about my cut of the 2.1 mil we got from the live retrieval?"

"No, because it doesn't matter. If the mass influx of new arrivals is going to bring in more competition, then it means I have even less of a chance at making a serious bid on a Morty auction than I ever did before." Ricktus stepped around the other Ricks as he made his way back across the room and threw the mail down onto the bed. "It's as if the whole universe is working against me in everything I do... I don't know why I bother trying anymore." He carelessly flicked the photo over his shoulder as he sat down again. "Whatever."

"Oh boy, you know how many times we've been over this?" Surgeon Rick finished patching up his patient and patted his shoulder to indicate that he was done. "Well, not many because you never wanna talk about it, but it's not smart to bid on a depreciating asset, bro. Do you know how many Ricks die out there every day? Don't think about it and keep on doin' whatever you wanna do. You'll get yours eventually."

"Eventually," the doctor bitterly repeated the word. "Yes, and eventually, the sun will burn out. Eventually, the entire universe will cool beyond the point where it can no longer sustain the processes that increase entropy. Eventually, all of this will end - you, me, everything. I say good riddance."

"Uh... cool story, bro." The surgeon returned, unamused. "I dunno about you, but I'm pretty sure I won't be around when that happens."

"If it's really that important to you, then why don't you take out a loan or ask for a pay advance? It can't be that hard." Rick muttered as he sat up again and slid off the bed. "Or you could, you know, do that bragging thing you like to do and wave your dick around about getting the 'Rickest Rick' to the Citadel alive. Demand a bigger payout. Play the game by their own rules and beat them at it."

"Holy shit... you're right!" Ricktus exclaimed, suddenly perking up at the brilliance of the idea. "I have MORE than enough grounds to raise an objection with the Council and renegotiate your value. I need to arrange a meeting with them as soon as possible!" He was so excited and in such a hurry that he fumbled with getting his datapad out of his pocket.

"Whoa, slow down, buddy." Rick frowned at him. "Of course I'm right, but the assembly isn't until next week. While it's a smart move to put in a bet and risk it all, don't go in until you've formulated a proper plan of attack."

Ricktus wasn't listening; he was already talking to himself as he began going over the things he wanted to say to the Council.

Shaking his head, Rick turned his attention back towards his own issues; he was still standing there in rain-soaked, uncomfortable pants. "If this is my apartment, then where are all my clothes?"

"Way ahead of you, dude." Surgeon Rick slid open a hidden door beside the bed, revealing a closet that was built into the wall. "Ricks are all roughly the same size and shape, so everything in here should fit you. Just ignore the sets of scrubs. I hung them up in there to keep them out of the way. Oh and... sorry about the missing pairs of underwear. I had to borrow some. I'll replace 'em as soon as I can."

"Why would you do that!?" Rick felt disgusted as he sifted through the assortment and settled on another long-sleeved, blue shirt and brown pants.

"Hey man, you weren't here." Surgeon Rick half-joked as he offered his defense. "I came back to the Citadel with nothing but the clothes on my back, because in case you've forgotten, you burned everything I owned. I couldn't even salvage my dignity or pride because I got covered in bug guts. Oh, and your blood, but I was one of the guys who helped save your life. The least you could do is lend me a few pairs of undies, you ungrateful bastard."

"Hmm, I'm still not sure where I stand on that, but thanks to you, now I have SO many unwanted thoughts about the concept of communal undergarments." Rick scowled further. "Hey, can you look away for a sec? Thanks." He turned his back to the others for some semblance of privacy, then unbuckled his belt and let his pants and underwear slip to the floor.

Surgeon Rick rolled his eyes. He still thought the scientist's self-conscious behavior was ridiculous and entirely unnecessary even more than before considering that he'd seen him naked during surgery and in the days of aftercare that followed, but he still respected him enough to comply.

"How much do you think this Morty is going to go for?" Ricktus suddenly wondered aloud, and it was clear that his imagination was running away with him. "Shit, what am I supposed to tell Beth? I haven't seen her since..." He stopped himself. "Should I arrange a crib? Is it a good idea to let the Morty settle in here before integrating him into a normal home life? I've never gotten this far before... what am I supposed to do?"

"How about actually winning the auction first?" The suggestion was muffled; Rick had thrown a towel over his head and was rubbing his hair dry. "Can't do anything until you tick that box."

"The dude is right." Surgeon Rick nodded in agreement. "It's great to see a complete turnaround from last night, but sit back and take a breather, bro. Do the thing one step at a time, yeah?"

Glancing at one Rick and then the other, Ricktus conceded to their logic. "O-of course." He entered a number into the datapad and stood up, becoming nervous. "I just hope I can request an audience with Riq IV before the day is out, and that he doesn't shut me down..."

"Do you want me to rattle his cage if he gives you a hard time?" Rick put considerably more care into drying his midsection; he didn't want to disturb his fresh dressings so soon. "He has such a hard-on for wanting me to stay that I'm sure he'd be willing to do anything I asked, like... say, showing up to an appointment to see him if I made one."

Ricktus was openly staring at his back now. "Why would you do that for me?"

"Because being me comes with certain privileges, apparently. I wanna push that Rick's buttons and inconvenience him as much as possible." The scientist casually admitted. "Also, I wanna see what happens."

The doctor vaguely nodded as he became immersed in his thoughts again, and he quietly paced out the front door with his datapad held up to his ear.

Rick let him go and went through the slow task of dressing himself again once he was dry enough. In hindsight, he wished he'd had the sense to wash his hair; getting it wet made it smell greasy.

"That was really cool of you, bro." Surgeon Rick sounded impressed and sincere at the same time.

"Was it? It just seemed logical to me." Rick was quick to shrug it off. "But if you liked that one, then keep paying attention... I'm just getting warmed up."

The rest of the afternoon passed by without incident. Rick dressed Morty in a warm, yellow onesie with planets and cartoon aliens printed all over it, and although he thought the design was horrendously inaccurate, the youngster didn't care so he didn't raise an objection.

He carefully unpacked some of his boxes and put the interlocking stacking bricks out for Morty to play with, though soon enough, he'd abandoned his own things in favor of playing on the floor with him again.

As Surgeon Rick returned to reading his books, he paused every now and then to watch them; he also secretly wondered if the toy request had been entirely for Morty's benefit, because he genuinely couldn't tell which one of them was having more fun.

After some time, Morty became bad tempered and tired, so Rick took the opportunity to nap with him on the couch, holding him securely in his arms while he lay on his good side. It wasn't until the evening ticked around that he stirred from his slumber again - the wonderful smell of something roasting hung heavily in the air.

"That better be in my apartment," the scientist mumbled as he groggily sat up, being careful not to hurt himself or disturb his grandson too much. "Because if it's not, then my neighbors are gonna be pretty damn pissed about the break-in that's about to happen."

An amused chuckle came from the kitchenette area. "Nah, it's ours. But if that's how you feel about my cooking, then you might wanna lock the door before some other asshole gets the same idea."

"Wait, you know how to cook? And you can actually use the stove without setting yourself on fire?" Rick blinked a couple of times, then finally focused his eyes on Surgeon Rick's back; he immediately took note that the other had swapped out his clothes for pajamas, and that he had donned a hideously garish apron. "You look fucking ridiculous."

"I look just fine. Kiss my ass, fucker." The other shot back good-humoredly. "Why do you sound so surprised? Any ol' dumb Rick should be able to learn how to cook – it's an inexact science. I was a homemaker and kept Lizabeth and me fed for like, 16 or 17 years straight. Do you think we survived on takeout and microwave garbage all the time?"

"Well, no, but-" Rick gave a loud yawn and didn't bother to cover his mouth. "Surgery, bass player, space, and cooking? None of those sound like they go together in any universe. What a weird combination, a-and that's coming from me."

"They don't go together. At all." The surgeon grinned back at him, though he couldn't tell if it had been a subtle jab or a genuine compliment.

Ricktus came back into the apartment by the time the food was ready, and he silently took his place on the couch with a plate, blankly staring at the piping-hot steam wafting off his roasted potatoes.

"So, how'd it go?" Surgeon Rick casually asked as he handed over a set of eating utensils and sat next to him.

"I patiently waited outside Riq IV's private chambers for over four hours." Ricktus seemed determined to look OK even though he clearly wasn't. "I actually got through to him and told him that I had something important to discuss... but he never arrived."

"The fuck?" Surgeon Rick was insulted on his behalf. "He didn't show? What a crock of shit!"

"That's not all," the other continued. "He went away for the weekend on some official Council business, and he won't be available again until Monday morning."

"So he thinks. It just means I get to put some heat under him until he talks." Rick said through a mouthful of roast beef, then stabbed his fork in another small piece and offered it to Morty. "I'm curious to see how quickly he's gonna bend over to accommodate me."

"Are you sure that's wise, boss, uh... B-526?" Ricktus awkwardly scratched the side of his head; he still felt it necessary to question him even though he knew it was being done for his benefit. "If you anger the big boss enough, he'll make an example out of you and make you suffer-"

A high-pitched squeal drowned him out; Morty was determined to let everyone know that he wasn't being fed fast enough. With another loud, defiant noise, he snatched the fork out of his grandfather's hand as it came within reach and jammed it in his mouth, wanting to do the task for himself.

"Hey!" Rick only half-protested; he saw Morty demanding his own independence as an encouraging sign and moved his plate closer to give him better access.

Ricktus also cast his gaze in Morty's direction, closely watching. "I can't tell if he's just being a child, or if he's expressing excessive dominance and insecurity behaviors commonly associated with a traumatic experience. It might even be a bit of both." His eyes glazed over and he began to think hard. "Do all dimensional variations of Morty behave this way...? I haven't observed enough of them to form an educated opinion."

"Yeah, I guess? Mine does this stuff, too." Surgeon Rick added to the conversation. "He's a great kid, but he doesn't know me too well, so he cowers like a piece of shit around me." He paused in thought. "Wait, I'm not really sure if my experiences count as a great point of reference..."

With both hands free again, Rick grabbed his laptop and spent a few minutes silently working on it. "Aaaand done." He almost dramatically hit the enter key and looked up, victorious. "I have a 9 o'clock appointment with the idiot on Monday morning, or at least, you do now. The line between 'me' and 'you' gets kinda blurry in a place like this, doesn't it?" A huge, cunning smirk grew across his face.

Ricktus couldn't manage much more than a small nod of gratitude.

"Hey guys, let's watch TV for a while. That's something we like to do, right?" Surgeon Rick offered in an attempt to steer the conversation in a less-awkward direction, then pointed the remote at the wall before anyone could comment or object.

A bright picture suddenly illuminated the screen as the appliance came on, accompanied by a desperate female's voice crying out of the speakers. " _What the... what are you doing, Glenn?! Stop it, you're hurting me! That doesn't fit in there!"_

"Oh god, they're doin' ANOTHER rerun of this season?! Pay the creative staff whatever they're asking and get new content, ya losers!" The surgeon loudly moaned and flicked through several more channels before finally settling on the Citadel news.

An Anchor Rick faced the camera and read aloud from a teleprompter off-screen, his expression both bored and serious. _"Tonight, the scandal with Maximums Rickimus deepens, and one silver-rank Rick's jaw-dropping claims will shock you. Mounting pressure continues on the Citadel's resources as another 2,500 Ricks register in the last 24 hours, with no end in sight. And lastly, are you being chased by an evil, intergalactic alien overlord? We'll tell you how to find out. All these stories and more, coming up on Citadel Evening News."_

"Ooh," Surgeon Rick perked up. "You guys want me to leave this shit on?"

Rick didn't look up; he was still hard at work on his laptop. "I don't care."

Morty's contribution to the conversation was raising both food-covered hands high in the air and squealing with happiness.

"Suit yourselves." The surgeon shrugged it off and continued watching.

 _"Good evening. I'm Rick E-419 and you're watching Citadel Evening News. You know, in case you forgot that I just said it in the last two seconds, and because you should have read it in the logo, you lazy bastards. Whatever."_ He tapped his papers on the desk and went on. _"This just in: a rogue, criminal Rick is on the loose tonight, charged with grievously wounding our great-and-honorable leader, spreading falsehoods, and inciting mutiny and rebellion against the Council of Ricks. The wanted felon is reported to be 'rude and kind of a dick'."_ A drunk mugshot of the Rick in question came up on the screen beside him. " _All citizens are advised not to listen to, look at, or approach him under any circumstances. Lock your doors and windows tonight, and avoid dressing like every other dumb, lab-coat-wearing Rick in the Citadel, because that's how you get shot."_

Ricktus dipped a brow in suspicion, then glanced at the door. "Well, B-526... you got your wish. It sounds like there's more Ricks who feel the same way as you do. That is, if it's not sensationalist journalism or scaremongering again. How true do you think it is?"

"Please, you heard the guy," Surgeon Rick replied with a grin. "It was on TV, so there's no possible way it could be a lie."

After dinner was finished and the dishes were cleared away, Surgeon Rick went channel surfing until he found a good movie to watch. All four of them sat quietly, but only one of them was interested; now that he had a full belly, Morty was content and snuggled up against his grandfather's side, comforted by his towering presence and warmth. Ricktus wasn't paying attention either; he had since zoned out and his mind was preoccupied with hypothetical scenarios and thoughts. Partway through the movie, he got up and went outside to be alone on the balcony.

Meanwhile, Rick kept himself occupied on his laptop and read through the curative-serum-development research that Ricktus had left behind on the Citadel's information network. It didn't take him long to discover that just like his Morty-cloning project, the doctor had become discouraged with how slowly progress was being made. Instead of being given more time to develop his serum further, the Council of Ricks had brushed its potential aside in favor of having his team clean up the dead-and-dying Ricks of the multiverse.

The final notes he found on the curative serum stated that although it was successful in its current state, it would likely be more effective if concentrated and removed of all the impurities. Although it had already been attempted a number of times, the serum had a nasty tendency of catching on fire in the middle of the process.

It didn't seem like much to go on, but Rick was already formulating ideas about how to fix it.

Curiosity overtook him as he got into the Project Rickdemption files and his own clinical notes next, though most of it contained detailed descriptions of what he already knew and had discussed with the doctor previously; Ricktus obviously had no clue what was wrong with him and kept calling him 'a scientific anomaly' right up to the point where he started to actually get sick.

Page after page of notes, one recurring theme kept popping up – Ricktus was lamenting over his failed attempts to win any kind of alliance with him.

 _'Giant asshole. Repeat: giant, stubborn asshole. I doubt that this Rick will ever calm down and stop hating me for what I've done to him, but the Council's will must be done.'_

 _'Far too proud for his own good. I don't know why the Council wants us to keep such an aggressive Rick alive so badly, but they can have him.'_

 _'Even after saving him from himself, I still find myself at a complete loss. No matter how hard I bend over to accommodate Rick B-526, he only shows contempt for the fact that I'm trying to help him.'_

 _'Our personalities are far too similar and C-711 was right - I've finally met a Rick who is as stubborn as I am, and worse, he is objectively better than I am in every way. This Rick has nothing to gain out of allying with me. I'd be much better to write him off now than to keep wasting my time trying.'_

He found the last entries most intriguing, and the doctor was right - if they both weren't so stubborn and close together in personality, then maybe they would have gotten along much sooner. Being preoccupied with clashing agendas and their competitive, aggressive natures hadn't done much to help the situation either.

Casting a glance in the direction of the balcony, Rick cleared his throat to get Surgeon Rick's attention. "Hey... I don't wanna make a habit out of this, but can you put Morty to bed for me?"

Surgeon Rick raised his head and cracked his eyes open; he'd been close to falling asleep himself. "Yeah, can do... and then I should put me to bed afterwards." He got up with a lazy yawn and moved over to stand beside them. "Gee, he's really gone, isn't he?" He let out a soft chuckle as he gently picked up one of Morty's little arms and let it go again; it harmlessly flopped back onto the couch cushion like it belonged to a limp rag doll.

Rick didn't see the humor and rewarded him with a glare. "You're playing a dangerous game with a ticking time bomb. If you wake him up, then you're responsible for the screaming and the aftermath, understand?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Surgeon Rick softly grumbled as he scooped the sleeping lump up in his arms. "Anyway, what you've already done is 90% of the independent-sleeping strategy you wanna adopt with this kid. Wait until he's down and transfer him to his crib. You'll be sleeping on your own and getting your freedom back in no time."

Rick nodded, but he wasn't sure if it was something he wanted to subject Morty to so soon; they already had a lot of issues to work through and they'd barely started. As he watched the surgeon turn around and leave, he took the opportunity to escape out onto the balcony.

There, he found Ricktus, who was sitting cross-legged on the tiles beside the door, and staring off into the distance, though he wasn't looking at anything in particular.

"Uh, hey," Rick offered hopelessly in an attempt to start conversation. "Are you sure you wanna be out here knowing there's a rogue Rick on the loose?"

"Please, we're on the 22nd floor. I think we're safe all the way up here." Ricktus stated matter-of-factly. "But if I see a generic-looking Rick scaling the building, I'll be sure to let you know."

"It's late and it's getting cold out here. Why don't you come inside?" Even as the question left his mouth, Rick knew how soft he sounded and covered for it with an irritated huff. "Because if you come back in after everyone has gone to bed and you wake Morty up, then I'm gonna have to kick your ass. I'm pretty sure that counts as exerting myself, so... that would be on you."

Ricktus knew he should have responded with acknowledgment because he was still meant to be the subordinate one, but he let slip the bitter thought on his mind instead. "Six days... did you know that some insects live longer than that?"

Rick said nothing, but folded his arms and leaned against the doorway beside him.

"I can't sleep, and I wouldn't be able to if I tried." Ricktus hastily answered the first question to correct his mistake. "I can leave the apartment until morning if you're that concerned about me waking everyone up. There are plenty of places to go around the Citadel, and they're open all night. They don't kick you out unless you become violent."

"But you're not going to do that. Are you." It was more of an instruction than a request.

Ricktus thought about it before looking up at him and slowly shaking his head. "No."

Rick wanted to talk about why he was really out there, but subtlety had never been his strong suit. "Well, go on with what you meant. You started it, now finish it."

The doctor was hesitant initially; all he wanted to do was continue working his way through his minefield of thoughts and avoid the question, but his boss was looming over him with such impatience that he knew there was no getting out of it. "Very well, you're the one who asked for it. See, none of this was supposed to happen... not you, not what happened to the ship, nor having my project shut down by the Council, o-or..." He finally gave in with a short sigh. "Mortimer was meant to grow up. He deserved the chance to become an adult, and with the correct care, he would have lived a long life. He should have dated girls, or boys, or anyone really. Or nobody... I-I don't care. But he was supposed to survive, and things would be so much different if he was still alive."

"Mortimer, huh?" Rick made a soft sound of disapproval. "I never did like the full name. I-it's stupid."

"I wasn't fond of it either, but it wasn't my choice to make." Ricktus gave a small shrug; of all the things troubling him, that was the least of his concerns. "Mortimer had everything going for him right from the start. He had a good mother who followed every precaution knowing she had a high-risk pregnancy, and he had the best damn pediatric doctor in the entire universe working on his case. But even after lining up the perfect candidate for transplant, I still couldn't save him... and it feels like the odds have always been stacked against me." He sank down and placed his head in his hands. "After everything that's happened and knowing what I know now... I'm not even sure I want that Morty going up for auction next week."

"Why not?"

"Because everything is my fault and it's going to end badly no matter what." The answer was immediate and spoken with firm conviction. "I can never go home - I would be arrested for kidnapping a newborn baby. I'd also be charged with forging medical records and first-degree murder if they connect me to the paper trail I left behind."

Rick rolled his eyes. "You have a freakin' portal gun. They can't catch you if you're in another dimension, stupid!"

"It doesn't matter," Ricktus quickly returned. "Even if I did manage to win the Morty auction, I can't take him back to Beth... she's not stupid. She'd be able to tell he was a fraud right away."

"No, that would make her an idiot." Rick retorted. "There's no real or fake Morty in any universe. There's no real anyone for that matter - we're all just one of an infinite number of versions of ourselves."

"That's not what I meant," Ricktus hastily tried to explain himself. "I highly doubt that any Morty I obtain would bear the same kind of scars that one would expect to see after a heart transplant." He sat up to poke his sternum. "Everyone knows about the zipper scar... everyone. Some survivors even flaunt it like a badge of honor."

Rick gave a short grunt of dissatisfaction; it was a valid point.

"No Morty will ever replace the one we lost," the other lowered his head again. "If everything I do is only going to end in failure, then... there's no point in trying to do anything else. It's time to stop."

As Rick continued to watch him, he started noticing parallels to Rick C-139; he looked tired and just as worn down by his experiences, and he didn't even need to wonder if he was giving up because it was blatantly obvious. He knew he could have walked away and left the other to his own devices, but he didn't; by playing the Citadel's silly hierarchy game and claiming Rick C-711 and Rick Q-316 under his gold badge, he'd made them his problem.

With a soft, frustrated sigh, he made his next move carefully; making a big deal out of the issue would only feed the other's negative thoughts further.

"Nothing you're describing sounds like an issue to me," he spoke like it hardly mattered to him. "Why would you get so close to your end goal and stop now? So you've been set back a few times... who cares? Your shit is fixable, but you're not going to get any further if you don't place in a bid in that auction. Just work out the details after you win."

"Of course you would say that... you've always played to win."

"You won't win anything unless you try, and the alternative is much worse." Rick almost wanted to laugh. "If everything that exists is only born to die, then it makes sense to fight. If death is how we lose in the end, then I wanna put up as much resistance as possible until it finally comes for me. You might as well enjoy the time you have left and get what you want in the meantime, right? Carpe diem."

"You're right," the doctor's quiet voice became a mix of admiration and jealousy. "You make it sound so straightforward... I wish I could be more like you."

"Hey, I've given you more than enough pushes in that direction. The rest is up to you." Rick impatiently tapped his foot. "So why didn't you wanna talk about your Morty back when I first asked you about him on the ship? How come you're only telling me this now?"

"Because I thought you might have used it against me somehow," the other reluctantly admitted. "I thought you were going to criticize me for my choices. I see differently now, but once again, I was wrong."

"Just so you know, being wrong isn't a bad thing - it's an opportunity to learn from your mistakes. And the more times you fail, the more you increase your odds of winning. It's basic statistics... think about it. Only through total failure lies the true path to success." He turned to watch Surgeon Rick switching off the lights around the apartment; it was his cue to go to bed. "And if you still can't sleep and don't wanna think about any of that, then shut up and just look up for a while."

Ricktus was staring up at him again; the last part didn't make any sense and seemed random. "What...?"

"You heard me. You're not deaf." Rick declared with a grumpy huff, then glanced up at the slow-moving image on the glass display high above them. "And that's not a metaphor for something else. Physically look up and check out the view. Do you recognize it?"

Although the doctor was confused, he didn't hide his curiosity and followed his gaze upwards. "What am I supposed to be looking at?" He asked after a moment of silence.

"Wow... you're kidding, right? You never stopped to admire the view on your stupid, space-junk ship? Not even once?" Rick almost sounded disappointed as he began his explanation. "Every evening just before sunset, the Rick in charge of the Citadel's day-night cycle takes suggestions on what to put on show for the night. They wanted me to feel at home, so they asked me what I wanted. Because the night sky on Bird World and Earth were both super lame and boring, I gave them the coordinates to your dumb portal hub in Dimension Q-316. The ship might not be there anymore, but your nebula certainly is. I would've told you to come look earlier, but you're already out here, so... you saved me the effort."

Ricktus took it in, but did not speak; Rick was right - he'd been on his ship for well over a year, but because he'd been so consumed by work and his outstanding goals, he'd never actually stopped to look outside his own window before. Now he found himself staring at the high-domed ceiling and the imagery that lazily drifted across it. Even though he knew that the unnamed-nebula's light was nothing more than oxygen and hydrogen-gas emissions, he was still mesmerized by the hundreds of brilliant colors glowing against the backdrop of a million stars.

"It's a live... l-live-feed," Rick had to pause as a large yawn came over him. "If you like what you see, then maybe it'll hold your interest over goin' back down to that cesspool of a bar you were found in last night."

Ricktus was deeply conflicted as he watched the other turn around and walk away in his peripheral vision; while the words hadn't exactly sounded like a pep talk, he knew their intention was to give him hope. After everything that had happened, he hated the concept; it was foolish and would only lead to more failure.

Hope was dangerous. The idea did not have any medical or scientific basis. It would not improve his odds. To believe in hope meant believing in karma, and his mind had never entertained such nonsense.

And yet in spite of everything, even though he knew it was completely illogical, his mind still wanted to cling to the idea because it was the only thing he had left.

* * *

The next day began with a rude awakening; the door of the apartment sounded like it was about to splinter or break with how hard it was being pounded on.

Surgeon Rick was jolted out of his sleep, and a quick glance at the clock beside the bed told him it was 6:02 am, which meant that he didn't need to be up for hours. Or at all, for that matter.

It was quite clear that the noise wasn't going to stop, so he sprang out of bed and bounded across the room in a wild rage. He didn't care that he was still in his pajamas, or that his hair was more of a mess than usual, or even who was on the other side; all he wanted to do was make them shut up.

He almost ripped the door off its hinges as he yanked it open. "Oh my god, it's too early for your shit! What the fuck do you want, bitch!?" He found himself practically nose-to-nose with three, stern-looking Guard Ricks. "Bitches?" He corrected himself through a forced, toothy grin.

"We've been informed that this residence contains Ricks with medical qualifications," the middle Guard Rick stuffily announced. "You are to come with us at once."

"No way, man. Not this time." With his thumb and middle finger at the ready, Surgeon Rick flicked the silver badge pinned to the guard's uniform; it was a blatant sign of disrespect. "Go be annoying somewhere else. We got a goldie in here and he picked us to be his staff, so you can't push us around."

"Direct orders from the Council of Ricks outrank the authority of any gold-ranked member of the Citadel," the guard on the left reminded him. "Failure to comply will be seen as an act of rebellion, which is punishable by public trial before the whole Citadel."

"Oh, for... stand down, C-711. What trouble are you getting yourself into now?" Ricktus put his glasses on and sat up; he was barely awake, but the conversation sounded serious enough to pique his curiosity. "I don't believe I ordered a 6 am wake-up call."

The third Guard Rick peered past the surgeon and addressed the doctor directly. "Nobody did, but there's an emergency, mass-casualty event in the infirmary, and a shortage of qualified personnel available to manage it. You are required to abandon your position and assist the medical team in-"

"I get the idea." Ricktus interrupted; he was no longer interested in listening to him. "C-711 and I will be attending the crisis. Give us," he paused to think of a reasonable time estimate, "ten minutes to get ready and scrub up."

Satisfied with the response, the guards turned away and headed off down the corridor to continue with their door knocking.

Surgeon Rick was only too happy to shut the door on them again. "Well, that was lame, but cool for you, I guess? 'Cause now you got something to feel useful with." He stopped to look around him. "Hey, where's our dude at? The last time I saw him was when you guys were doing your thing out on the balcony last night, but I didn't see him come to bed."

Ricktus connected his prosthetic limbs into their respective biomechanical junctures and got up to join the search. "I wouldn't worry. He's physically incapable of getting too far." Just as he had finished the last word, he found their new boss fast asleep on the couch and snoring, undisturbed by all the noise. "Ah, see? I told you so."

Surgeon Rick came over to take a look. "Yeah, you did, you fuckin' smartass." He casually teased before gently nudging Rick in the shoulder. "Hey, wake up... it can't be comfortable sleeping there. We gotta take off for the day because the Council's orders trump yours." He gave him another shake until he was certain that he was awake. "Why don't you get up and take the bed while it's still warm?"

Rick let him know that the gesture wasn't appreciated by trying to swat him away. His first few words were mumbled and indecipherable, but he soon found his voice. "D-don't wanna. Go away... being awake this early should be illegal!"

"Yeah, you're tellin' me!" Surgeon Rick agreed with an amused chuckle. "For reals though, we gotta run off and patch up a bunch of losers. If you need anything, just give either one of us a call. I can't guarantee that my brother here will respond, because he never answers his phone," he took the opportunity to cuff Ricktus in the arm again, "but I promise to always pick up when it's you."

Ricktus's left eyebrow twitched, but he somehow managed to restrain his irritation. "I... believe I am required to answer to my boss no matter what. Last time I checked, that does not include you."

"Wow, that's SO rude. Why you gotta be such an asshole?" Even though it was clearly serious, Surgeon Rick took it in good humor. "Just for that, I got first dibs on the shower."

Ricktus opened his mouth to protest, but the other had already turned his back and headed into the bathroom. "Well, then," he sighed as the door shut; the day had barely begun and he was already over it. "I suppose I can go on with other things."

Rick pretended to be asleep while the other Ricks went about their business and prepared for their busy day ahead. In the second they were gone, he got up and lay face down on the bed, splaying his limbs out in all directions as he made use of the extra space; it really was far more comfortable than his couch could have ever been. With a lazy yawn, he snuggled into a warm spot that one of the others had left behind and began to drift off again in no time at all.

His mind entertained thoughts as it often did when it was between the state of awake and sleep, and his cynical side reminded him once again that he had to keep moving and not fall into complacency. Although it was obvious that the apartment and all the perks that came with it were part of the package deal to win him over on the Citadel, he couldn't help but think that there was nothing wrong with taking advantage of it and enjoying the time out to relax while he got to the root problem of what to do with himself.

He must have fallen into a deeper sleep after that, because the next thing he heard was Morty's alarm calls and terrified crying. With a loud groan, he forced himself to get up and answer to it; he knew it wouldn't stop until he did.

Picking the little boy up rewarded him with a violent hug as Morty held onto him for dear life, and Rick had to forcefully pry him off in order to change his diaper and the clothes he had been sleeping in; he'd drooled all over his sleeves during the night, and leaving him like that was unacceptable.

After nearly ten minutes of trying to console the little boy by carrying him and pacing in slow circles around the main room of the apartment, his sobs finally began to subside.

"Come on, Morty... this bullshit has gone on long enough. Grandpa's here, OK?" Rick sounded firm but worn down; the noise was exhausting to listen to. Despite his feelings, he put up with it anyway because he knew it was his fault; leaving Morty to sleep alone in his own crib with all his issues had been a terrible idea in hindsight, and now he felt like the worst person in the multiverse for subjecting him to it. "Nobody's gonna hurt you while I'm around, you understand me?"

Morty just stared up at him with tear-stained eyes and loudly sniffled.

"Well, buddy... we have the whole apartment to ourselves for the day," Rick changed the subject to take his mind off it. "If I made you the boss, would that cheer you up? What would you wanna do?"

With a timid, communicative sound, Morty pointed in the direction of the TV; it was something he recognized from home, and he often found the moving pictures entertaining even if he didn't understand any of the spoken words.

Rick was only too happy to oblige him by turning it on, and he left the boy on the floor in front of an animated cartoon while he set his new coffee machine to brew and mixed up a bottle of formula at the kitchenette. "Are you sure you wanna waste your time watching that nonsense?" He asked, even though he knew he wouldn't get an answer. "Don't you wanna go outside and play? Or don't kids do that anymore?"

He heard a loud, scattering crash just as he had turned his back; Morty had upended his entire box of stacking bricks straight onto the carpet in front of him.

"Fucking hell, Morty... do you really have to do that?" Rick only half-grumped; he was annoyed about the mess, but if Morty's mind was already distracted, then he'd take whatever he could get. "Grandpa's still not feeling so great, y'know. I-it's gonna be harder than usual to pick up after all your shit."

Once his coffee was ready, he grabbed his mug, sat down on the couch, and kicked his feet up on the table. After handing the bottle to his grandson, he took a sip of his own hot beverage and tried to relax; while the puerile nature of the TV show could never hold his interest, he was still content with the peace and quiet.

He soon found entertainment in his own grandson. There was nothing left in life or the universe that fascinated him anymore, but just watching Morty be himself always seemed to be an exception to the rule; the little boy's growing mind was like a sponge that soaked up and used any readily available information, and this morning would be no different. Morty's memory had archived his grandfather's crazy rambling about building sturdy structures from yesterday, and he slowly clicked brick after brick together, persisting through his own babyish clumsiness to form his newest creation into a multi-layered, wide-based, stepped pyramid.

It didn't matter that he was uncoordinated, or that the brightly colored bricks had been picked at random, or even that they had gaps in them. Rick was not only proud of the fact that he had remembered the lesson, but that he was actually applying it correctly.

It only confirmed what he'd already suspected; Morty wasn't dumb at all. He had no verbal skills yet, but he wasn't the slightest bit stupid in any way. He was his own brand of intelligent, and now he was witnessing it unfold right in front of his eyes.

As much as he wanted to get off the couch and join Morty on the floor, he didn't; his postoperative injuries still hindered him and there would be nobody to pick him up this time. "Holy shit, Morty... you're one smart cookie, aren't ya?" He verbally praised him instead. "Are you gonna help Grandpa build things when you get older? Are ya?"

With a delighted squeak, Morty abandoned his toy and climbed up onto the cushion beside his grandfather; now that he had his attention, he fully intended to get in his face.

"Hey, I didn't tell you to stop. But thanks for making it easier for me to do this," a rare, yet genuine smile came over his face as he ruffled up the little boy's hair. "You're a good kid, Morty. If you stick with me, we're gonna accomplish great things."

Both of them were highly amused as Morty ducked his head out of the way, but because he was still so top-heavy, he lost his balance and tipped forward. Rick was quick to catch him, and as the tiny pair of arms wrapped around his and tightly held on, nothing else mattered; keeping Morty safe was the only thing that made sense, and he suddenly felt overwhelmingly protective.

"I'm not always gonna be there to save you," he told him as he placed him back on the couch at his side again, "but I can sure as hell try."

When breakfast arrived, Rick was only too happy to share it between them; his appetite hadn't fully returned yet, and he didn't find the oatmeal or pancakes particularly appealing. Morty let out a surprised yelp as he stuck his fingers in the small serving of ice cream that had come with the pancakes, and he stared at the white melting lump, confused; he hadn't encountered food that was so cold before.

"Wow, buddy... your mom and dad never let you eat ice cream? You've been missing out." With a soft chuckle, Rick pushed it closer to him. "It's just regular old vanilla, but it's yours. Normally you'd have to fight me for it, but I'm still over it for the time being."

Although Morty struggled with the cold factor, he ended up thoroughly enjoying it anyway, and even licked the remnants off the inside of the bowl. Afterwards, his eyes drifted back towards the TV still playing on the wall, and he suddenly pointed at it as a commercial starring Beth and her version of Rick started playing on the screen. "M-m... mommy!" He waved at the moving picture, but was disappointed when it didn't react.

"Oh shit..." Rick felt his body go tense and all traces of amusement were gone from his face. "Y-you... you really do miss your mom, don't you...?" He breathed a heavy sigh and lowered his head in deep regret; he would be holding himself accountable for what he'd done to the little boy and his family for the rest of his life.

"I-I'm sorry, kid..." His voice was shaky and he knew the apology was pathetic; it also fell miles short of what the little boy actually deserved. "I miss her, too. There's a lot of them still out there that look like her, but ours was truly one of a kind."

He pushed the breakfast tray aside and let his grandson have the rest; he'd lost what little interest he had left in the food. Oblivious to his grandfather's rapidly declining mood, Morty happily ate his fill and resumed playing with the scattered toys on the floor, being sure to stay close enough where he could still see his favorite person.

In the next few moments, he had forgotten all about the incident, but Rick had not; it was just another indication of Morty's capacity to remember, and a harsh reminder of the colossal mess he'd made of the youngster's life. He was terrified of the long-term effects that the boy's memories would have on his mental health, and he could only speculate on what those might be.

When the cartoon show ended, the scientist wasn't paying attention; he'd already caved inward, his mind consumed by his own self loathing. He would've liked nothing more than to physically tear himself apart in that moment, but he couldn't - the sight of his grandfather harming himself would only become another black mark on Morty's growing mind.

It would also give him another reason to hate himself for doing that to him as well.

He tried to find a distraction in opening another document box that Ricktus hadn't gotten to yet, but what he found inside made his heart drop into the pit of his stomach - a dusty, old bottle of whiskey sat among wads of multi-page documents. His hand trembled as he pulled it out and set it down on the coffee table, and he could feel his heart rate begin to quicken.

It was exactly what he needed to numb his pain, but he was supposed to be sober.

The other Ricks had gone to the effort of washing him out, and he was under strict medical orders to never drink again. He also knew that now would be a great time to turn over a new leaf and quit for Morty's sake, but his mind was already howling at him to give into temptation.

Trying to forcefully eject the idea out of his brain again, Rick plucked the sticky-note off the side of the bottle and began to read.

" _An important question will be asked of you at your induction ceremony.  
_ _If you answer favorably, then there is a lot more where this came from.  
_ _Try to pace yourself until then,  
_ _\- #2"_

Turning the note over revealed nothing, and Rick tossed it back onto the table, sickened by his discovery; it looked like a member of the Council was trying to buy him off by bribing him with alcohol. To make matters worse, it was actually working; he was shaking and could feel his power of will coming apart at the seams as his mind began entertaining hypotheticals about how best to bargain with the author of the note.

The old familiar cravings burned up in his chest, and he could feel bile rising in his throat, nauseated and repulsed that something simple like a bottle of whiskey could have that much of an effect on him.

He mentally berated himself for being so weak-willed and pathetic.

It took him a whole five minutes to struggle through the mood. Two sides of himself fought against each other, and he needed to take forced, deep breaths, as well as constantly remind himself that now would be the worst possible time to drink - Morty didn't have anyone else to watch him.

He was supposed to be the responsible one.

With a heavy sigh, Rick kept repeating the words over and over in his head until the more rational thoughts began to win over again. Morty deserved a lot more than a constantly drunk, alcoholic grandfather for a caretaker.

He tried to convince himself that he could be strong, and that things would be different this time.

Morty needed him, and that wasn't going change for a long time.

Once he was calm, his mind was torn all over again. He still wanted the alcohol, but he also didn't; he knew the best idea was to hand it over to his new roommates, but he still wanted to keep it around, even though he knew that it was the addiction talking. After making sure that Morty was occupied, he quickly slipped into the bathroom to hide the whiskey bottle in the cistern tank of the toilet.

Closing the lid again, he breathed another heavy sigh; he knew it was a terrible idea, and that his mind would constantly try to encourage him to get into it, but he left it there as a backup anyway.

Just in case.

"Come on, Morty," he spoke in a quiet voice after coming back out. "It's time we went down for a nap, huh?"

Many hours later and well into the evening, both Ricktus and Surgeon Rick had returned to the apartment, smelling heavily of antiseptic from their exhausting day at work. In an act of revenge, Ricktus shoved his dimensional counterpart aside and rushed into the bathroom to take a shower before him.

Although it amused him, Surgeon Rick's attention was quickly drawn to Rick – he found the scientist hunched over at his workstation and busy drawing up the blueprints for another invention. As the other looked up at him, the surgeon could immediately tell that he'd been through a rough time of his own. Morty sat in the space between his feet, refusing to leave him alone, and was chewing on the handle of his wooden portal-gun toy, happy to have it back as well.

Surgeon Rick offered him a wide grin in greeting as he came over and tried to push for details. "Hey man, you don't look so great. Are you OK?"

"I-I'm fine," Rick lied, then picked up the pencil he'd been drawing with and anxiously tapped it against the tabletop. "How was your day?"

"It sucked, but it was worthwhile." Surgeon Rick casually dispensed. "We did our civic duty for the Citadel, we saved some lives, and we both earned a few hundred credits for our time." He momentarily pondered asking his new boss about more work and getting paid, but quickly decided otherwise. "You sure you're OK, dude?"

Rick's reply was a soft, warning grunt. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"No, that's cool." Surgeon Rick understood his reluctance, but tried another way around it. "I had a chance to look at Therapist Rick's schedule today. He's penciled your first appointment in for 11am on Monday morning. If you can't talk about it yet, then why don't you try writing it down? That's supposed to help."

As Rick watched him walk away to start preparing dinner, he narrowed his eyes at the suggestion; he was sure he could write an entire textbook about his problems if he only tried. He took out a piece of paper to humor the idea, but soon found himself staring at it, his mind going blank.

He was trapped in the role of a surrogate father, which he didn't deserve.

He had somehow earned the commendations of somebody else.

And the Galactic Federation was dead in a universe that wasn't even his.

Everything was truly twisted up and broken; it was like a cruel joke that nobody was laughing at. There was no possible way he could describe it all, and he had no idea how to begin.


	34. Three Ricks And A Morty

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Insert standard Rick and Morty disclaimer here. Nobody really reads this part anyway.

 **NOTE:** Have some slice-of-life fluff along with more plot. I've been wanting to make this chapter pun title pretty much since I started writing this story :) Also, this thing is 2 years old today by Ff dot net's time stamp. I never thought it would end up taking so long, but it's STILL going. Thanks for sticking with it for so long.

Also, 70 MORE EPISODES?! 100 more years of Rick and Morty!

* * *

 **Chapter 34 – Three Ricks And A Morty**

 **December 17th, 8:04am,** **Citadel Time, 2001  
** **Cross-Temporal Rift Nebula, Location Classified  
** **Citadel Of Ricks, Dimension Number Classified**

* * *

Rick discovered that there were distinct advantages and disadvantages to having three versions of himself living in what was essentially a single-room studio apartment. Although Morty had his own space and they had the privacy of a separate bathroom, those didn't count; it was an unspoken rule that Morty's room was his territory and his territory alone, while using a bathroom as a living space was a ridiculous concept.

The advantages quickly became obvious – Rick, Surgeon Rick, and Ricktus had all become familiar with each other's temperaments as well as their strengths and weaknesses, so they knew to stay out of the way when one of them was cranky or needed alone time. They also had similar tastes, which made food choices relatively straightforward. The other two Ricks also tolerated Morty's presence and even seemed to like having him around for some reason, so Rick didn't have to immediately jump to his every beck and call whenever they were nearby.

He didn't want to admit it, but he wasn't coping as well as he might have hoped - life with a little child in it was exhausting and time consuming, and Morty's demanding nature made him feel like he'd lost a large degree of his own independence. Morty's attention span varied as well, and when he wasn't engrossed in playing with a toy or learning a new skill, he was practically glued to his side like an extension of his shadow. Although Rick knew he had to accept it for what it was because everything was his fault, he still found himself desperately wanting a break from him.

The disadvantages to his new living situation were all minor, but they were starting to add up and annoy him - the dirty laundry that accumulated on the floor was a tripping hazard, and he hated having things misplaced, moved around, or not put back exactly where they were supposed to be whenever one of the others borrowed something from his workstation.

The sleeping arrangement was also becoming a frustratingly repetitive conversation and Rick did not like being the center of it - he adamantly refused to join the others in the double bed at night on principle, and so he had resigned himself to either sleeping on the couch, or on the floor in front of the TV with Morty. It was downright uncomfortable, but at least Morty was safe – unless the laws of physics had changed recently, he was fairly certain that he couldn't fall off the floor.

But hands down, having a single bathroom to share between all three of them was becoming the biggest inconvenience of all - it meant that there was typically heavy traffic first thing in the morning or in the evening before everyone went to bed.

As much as Rick wanted to shove in first, he knew he couldn't; pulling rank and going back on his word whenever it suited him would only make him look like a giant hypocrite. And at that moment, he was regretting his decision immensely – he needed to use the bathroom so badly that he was impatiently pacing back and forth just a few feet in front of the door, waiting for it to open again; it was all he could think of to try and take his mind off the discomfort.

It wasn't working; each passing moment felt like an eternity.

Meanwhile, Surgeon Rick's start to the day had been considerably more calm. He'd woken up peacefully and had nowhere to be, so he sat up in bed with another one of his space books; although he hadn't warmed up to the idea of writing an essay for his boss, he still took the learning opportunity seriously enough to want to continue with it. However, it didn't take him long to get distracted by Rick and he peered over the spine of his book to watch; while he'd already taken note of his distress, he didn't want to call attention to it and chose a non-direct way to start the discussion instead.

"Geez... he sure is taking his time, right? He did this before the last Council assembly, too... uh, the one we captured you for, that is." He awkwardly cleared his throat. "The fuckin' idiot will spend hours preening if you let him. Gotta look good for the big boss."

"He needs to hurry up and get out before I make a mess on the floor!" Rick snapped back at once. "I-I don't wanna clean THAT up... I already deal with enough of Morty's shit as it is!"

Realizing that his boss's predicament was more dire than he had originally guessed, Surgeon Rick's voice dropped low and became discreet. "Number one or number two?"

"What...?" Rick stopped pacing and stared at him, wide-eyed. "A-are you kidding me?!"

"Relax, bro." The surgeon quickly dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "I know how touchy you are with personal stuff, but this isn't about that. I'm just trying to help you out here." He pointed towards the kitchenette. "Because there's a perfectly good sink over there-"

"Oh god, n-not a chance in hell... I'm NOT doing that, and you're fucking gross for suggesting it! What's wrong with you?!" Rick thrust both hands out to either side of him in angry declaration. "You know we wash up our plates and eating utensils there, right? And I use it to make coffee!"

"Hey, don't be so uptight. I'm not gonna judge, and there's nothing wrong with it. In the end, they're all pipes that go to the same place." Surgeon Rick began trying to encourage him. "If you're that desperate, you might as well just go, man. I can look away if you need me to, and urine is sterile, so-"

"So you've done it before?" Rick's expression swiftly turned into an accusatory glare, the disgust clearly visible in his eyes. "In MY apartment!?"

"Well no, 'cause I haven't been here long enough." The other admitted with a small shrug. "But one time, when I was really drunk back on the ship-"

Before he could finish, Ricktus had eased the door open just enough to peek his head out. "C-711, are you arguing with the boss again? I do not have the time or desire to mediate between you two this morning, so I would kindly ask you to shut up and do whatever he says."

In one swift movement, Rick placed one hand on the door, shoved it open the rest of the way, and grabbed the doctor by the arm to forcefully yank him out of the room so he could go in.

"Hey, what gives?!" Ricktus immediately protested as he stumbled aside, but the door had already slammed shut before he could get another word in. "What was that all about?"

"Wasn't it obvious? When you gotta go, you gotta go." Surgeon Rick casually dispensed with another shrug, then turned the page and resumed reading.

"If he needed to relieve himself so badly, then why didn't he knock?" Ricktus dipped a brow in confusion. "I was only gelling my hair."

"Yeah, but for how long? Like, 45 minutes? That's just inconsiderate and rude." For a brief moment, it sounded like the other was criticizing him. "You gotta respect and share the living space, man. It doesn't solely belong to you anymore."

Before Ricktus could say anything else, a loud, almost-inhuman growl echoed from inside the bathroom, and there were several loud bangs and thumps like the sound of cupboard doors being aggressively opened and closed in quick succession.

"Well, that's just great..." The occupant raised his voice shortly afterwards. "Which one of you assholes used up all the goddamn toilet paper?! I'm gonna kill all of you!"

Surgeon Rick was quick to defend himself. "Hey, it wasn't me."

"Well, it wasn't me either." Ricktus firmly answered, shaking his head as he stared at the closed door. "Which means that one of you must be lying."

"How do we know you're not just sayin' that to deflect the blame away from you?" Surgeon Rick half-teased with a chuckle. "Because we all know I've been out here the whole time."

"Do you think I care about who did it? How does that help me!?" Rick angrily blurted out from the other side of the door. "Unless you want me to come out there and strangle you both with shit on my ass, then I suggest you fix the problem!"

"Ooh... I sure guessed wrong, didn't I?" Surgeon Rick ignored his mood and tried to make light of the situation instead. "Lucky you didn't shit in the sink... it sucks to wash the chunks down the drain."

Rick did not dignify the statement with a response; he was too busy adding more disadvantages to his mental list.

* * *

Ten minutes and one call to Citadel housekeeping later, Rick was back on the couch and more comfortable, while Ricktus had resumed his meticulous grooming. As he nervously paced around the apartment with one hand in his hair and a comb in the other, it was obvious that he was starting to work himself up into a panic.

"Oh god, I hate this part... the anticipation and waiting for my appointment to begin just about kills me..." The doctor openly stated as he looked up at the clock above the bed. "H-how... how is one supposed to look for a normal appointment to see the Council leader? Because none of our previous meetings with Riq IV or the rest of the Council have ever been, well, normal."

"I don't think he's gonna give a shit about your hair, for starters," Rick grumpily returned. "I told you, just fake out your proud bullshit and play him for everything you can get. You don't need to do any more than that."

"Do you want to do the talking for me?" The doctor paused to look expectantly at the scientist. "Because you know you're better at it than I am."

"So you wanna sit there while I do everything for you?" It was spoken in a bitingly sarcastic tone. "Fuck off. You're more than capable all on your own."

"He's not wrong, y'know." Surgeon Rick added to the conversation. "You wanna finish what you started, right? Well?" He pointed to the door. "Get outta here already."

"O-of course... well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Ricktus mentally steeled himself and gave a short nod in acceptance. "But are you?" His attention was back on Rick. "Are you really going to go to Riq IV's office dressed like that?"

"Like what?" Rick stood up to examine his attire; he thought his standard, long-sleeved blue shirt and brown pants were perfectly acceptable to wear anywhere around the Citadel. "Isn't this the generic look you keep making fun of? I don't need to make myself look nice for someone I don't respect. Unlike you, I'm not proud of my appearance."

"Oh really? I couldn't tell." Ricktus nervously offered in an attempt at humor, not knowing how well his new boss would take it. "But in all seriousness, you might want to do... something. You're beginning to look like a hobo."

"Am I?" As Rick idly scratched at the prickly blue stubble on his left cheek, he realized that he hadn't had a proper shave in weeks. "I-I guess, but I don't have time to fix it now... you wasted it all." He nodded towards the door. "And on that note, we should get a move on. Come, Morty. You're coming with me whether the pointy-haired bastard likes it or not."

With a loud, communicative babble indicating acknowledgment, Morty bounded towards his grandfather with his wooden portal gun in one hand, dragging his stuffed bee across the floor in the other. Once he was at his side, he reached up towards him with his arms wide open in a demand to be picked up, dropping both toys at his feet in the same movement.

Rick placed his hands on his hips in a mock scolding gesture, but the grin on his face was huge. "And what makes you think I'm gonna let you take that crap along with you? What kind of adventure do you think we're going on?"

The response he received was a string of multisyllabic nonsense, but it was enthusiastic and joyful; the little boy just wanted to be as close to him as possible.

Ricktus obliged Morty's request and handed him to Rick so he wouldn't have to bend over. "I strongly advise allowing him to take his toys with him. There's no harm in it, and they'll keep him occupied while you talk to Riq IV. Letting him make simple choices will give him a sense of empowerment and control, and children like him who have experienced trauma will often find comfort in inanimate objects such as blankets or toys."

"Geez... I didn't ask for a whole encyclopedia entry, dumbass. You don't have to keep reminding me how fucked up Morty is, everyone already knows he's damaged goods!" Rick defensively shot back, his good mood ruined. "If you feel that strongly, then shut the fuck up, grab his shit, and follow me." He grabbed his own personal effects and angrily shoved them in his pockets.

Ricktus said nothing as he obeyed his new boss's instructions. He kept his head down as he followed him out the front door, down the hallway, and into the apartment-block elevator, feeling both irritated and a little rebuffed; he thought that his explanation had been concise and to the point.

It wasn't until they were on the concourse that he felt the need to speak again; not far away from their position, a group of angry protester Ricks stood directly opposed to armed Citadel guards and held up signs that read things like _'when we are all the same, we all become nothing'_ , _'do not invoke the singularity'_ , and _'corruptio optimi pessima'_.

Although the situation was heated and both sides were hurling insults back and forth at each other, no violence or gunfire had been exchanged.

Yet.

Rick's pace slowed to an almost-complete stop, his eyes wide and firmly affixed to the standoff; although he was intrigued to learn more, his hold on Morty tightened ever so slightly.

Noticing his grandfather's unease, Morty made a small whimper and he buried his face in the crook of his arm, hiding away as best as he could.

"Shit..." Ricktus felt his heart rate quicken. "Please don't see this as an act of insubordination, but," he surreptitiously checked Rick over to see if he was wearing his gold badge, and breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered that he wasn't. "I never thought I would say this, but for once, I'm glad for your rebellious streak... come on. We can't stay here." He took his boss by the elbow and attempted to lead him away.

"Wait a sec... w-what is this? What's going on?" Suspicion rose in the scientist's voice, and he came to a standstill, refusing to go any further.

Ricktus was quick to shoot him an annoyed glare, but he quickly moved in closer and lowered his voice to a murmur as he spoke right next to the other's ear. "We shouldn't discuss this out in the open, and certainly not here. I have an obligation to keep you safe. Trust me when I say that you do NOT want to get caught up with this crowd." His second tug was a little more forceful, but he was mindful not to be too rough, knowing that Rick was still carrying Morty.

"N-no!" Rick stumbled back from him and raised his voice in open defiance. "All I'm asking for is a simple explanation! Why is that so difficult?!"

"Yeah man, what's so wrong about that?" One of the nearby protesters chimed in. "Every Rick here deserves to learn the truth - we're all being deceived and lied to. For example, did you know that the Council of Ricks finally solved the equation that calculated which timeline contains the Rickest Rick? But they're hiding him away from us, and no one will tell us why. What else do you think they have to hide?"

"Hey, you! Shut up! You've already been given two warnings about running off your mouth, so this is your last chance." One of the guards turned on the protester, but still managed to retain his firm, military demeanor. "Any discussion of that subject is strictly forbidden. You are to cease and desist at once."

"You can't silence us! This Citadel was forged on a foundation of secrets and lies, and every Rick needs to know about it!" The Rick taunted back and raised his protest sign even higher. "How can you stand allying yourself with an imbalanced system that systematically oppresses and demeans you? What do you get out of this? How is any of this fair!?"

"Settle down," the guard raised a hand to stop him. "Look man, we get it. We're silver Ricks just like you. Nobody in the Citadel Guard likes kissing ass, but the Council of Ricks needs to iron out all the kinks and work on making things better. These things take time and patience, so shut up and bear with it."

"Bear with it!? You're asking us to willingly bend over and get fucked in the ass!" The protester Rick retorted. "A-and better for whom? Better for everyone usually means worse for some!"

"That's enough!" The guard's patience finally snapped and he slammed the butt of his rifle into the other Rick's stomach. "Take him away and lock him up. The Council's word is law."

"We need to go." Ricktus gently prompted and tugged his boss by the arm again.

This time, Rick needed no encouragement to move on.

Nothing was said for a short time, but Ricktus was acutely aware of the look he was being given and knew that the other was impatient to hear his explanation. He breathed a heavy sigh and waited until they were inside the elevator to Riq IV's office before unloading his thoughts.

"Look... of course there are more Ricks who feel the same way as you do, but I couldn't say that in front of Riq IV, in his own office, and especially not while he had his posse of armed guards around him... not after the way you pissed him off. Things are already bad enough for me as it is. I didn't want to add insubordination and spreading dissension to the list."

"You know, you could've told me this a lot sooner." Rick muttered back. "I've been here for what, four days now?" He mentally counted them out and nodded. "OK, so you decided to get riggity riggity wrecked after my last meeting with the stupid asshole, but you had a whole weekend of doing nothing after that. Why am I only learning about this now?"

"Rick, you know I had an obligation to attend that mass-casualty event in the infirmary on Saturday morning. I worked my ass off for over 16 hours straight." Ricktus curtly reminded him. "But you're right. I should have told you sooner, but..."

"But?" Rick instantly pushed him.

The doctor's first reply was a discontent hum, but he quickly gave in. "...I'm still learning about you. Just because you chose to be my superior, it didn't mean I could trust you. Maybe I'm wrong, but I didn't know that at the time." He twisted his mouth into a firm frown and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You probably would've learned about it all on your own if you'd actually bothered to do your homework... the Council gave you those documents to read for a reason, you know."

Rick inclined his head and challenged him with a wide, toothy grin. "Are you seriously sassing me out right now?"

The other stiffened in posture and stood at attention. "N-no, sir."

"Well, you should. Go on eBay and buy yourself a spine." Rick stepped out of the elevator once it had reached the top floor. "So what's the rest of this story? Because I know those Ricks weren't pushing for better working conditions."

"The Council would have you believe that the Citadel operates like it has no problems. They also maintain a heavily armed presence to keep it that way. But the truth is much different." The other's voice had dropped to a whisper by the time they were outside Riq IV's personal chambers. "Everyone knows about the discovery of the Rickest Rick by now, but not everyone is happy about it. Protests like the one you saw outside happen all the time, but the guards have been taking longer to shut them down than before. I've been here long enough to notice."

"Why do you think that is?" The scientist was genuinely curious.

"Maybe they're distracted. Maybe they want to look good in front of all the newcomers... I-I don't know." The doctor didn't want to give it any more thought. "A precarious equilibrium has existed between the Ricks who support the Citadel and those who do not since its inception. Riq IV wants you on his side because he's hoping you'll work with him to help quell the civil disorder. He wants to unite both sides in the same, singular purpose – to conquer our enemies, and to bring the Citadel into a new age of innovation and prosperity."

"Do you really believe in that shit?" Rick looked back at him incredulously, but it was an honest question.

"It doesn't matter what I believe," Ricktus said truthfully, sounding worn down. "I-I just want to be safe."

"Hmm..." Rick placed his free hand on the door and pushed it open, intending to barge in without knocking.

Inside, Riq IV sat alone on a luxurious, plush, pink couch in his living space, and was partway through enjoying a hot cup of chamomile tea. Although he was already dressed for the day, his wet hair was wrapped in a towel to keep it from dripping onto his robes. He seemed deeply annoyed by the intrusion, but didn't bother getting up. "You're early."

"Yeah? My bad." Rick sounded like he couldn't have cared less and made himself comfortable on the cushion beside him. "I didn't think it would matter, unless you micromanage your whole day in increments of minutes or something." He released Morty from his grip and faintly smirked, curious to see what would happen.

Morty's first action was to let out an indignant, little huff, and then he plopped onto the floor and rolled away to play with the royal-purple curtains that decorated the room's largest viewing window.

The Council leader looked repulsed as his eyes tracked the youngster's every move, but he somehow managed to remain calm and set his cup aside. "I do," he rolled back his left sleeve to check the gold wristwatch device on his arm, "and when I tell you to arrive at 9 o'clock, I expect you to arrive at 9 o'clock on the dot... not 8 minutes early."

Nervously, Ricktus stepped forward and gently cleared his throat. "Would you, uh... w-would you like us to go away and come back when it's time?"

"No." Riq IV gave him an unfriendly look that suggested the question was stupid. "You're here now. You might as well begin."

"Yeah? Good, because I'm not leaving until I get what I want." Rick propped one elbow on the armrest and leaned back to relax. "You know, I'm not happy. You wanna know why I'm not happy?"

Riq IV said nothing, but made his displeasure known with a heavy frown. He was used to this same kind of attitude from the other members of the Council, but tolerating it from a gold-rank was still new to him and he had to bite down the desire to retaliate.

"You disrespected my homie," Rick started, his tone becoming cool and mildly threatening. "And when you disrespect my homie, you disrespect me. He waited for you. If you wanna talk about being on time to appointments, then why don't we start with the one that YOU didn't show up for? Cancellation is a thing, y'know. I suggest you learn about it."

"Please. I am the most-respected and important Rick in the entire Citadel," the other warned as he arrogantly puffed out his chest. "The silver-ranked Ricks are far beneath me, so I don't give a shit how he feels. Urgent business takes priority, and that will never change, so... get used to it."

"Wait, so you're openly admitting to being inconsiderate and unreliable? Phh, some leader you are." Rick feigned disinterest. "I'm... not sure I wanna be a part of that."

"Oh, and I suppose you could do better?"

"Yeah, obviously," Rick began idly drumming his fingers on the armrest. "If you'd done your job properly, then we wouldn't be here, now would we?"

Silently, Ricktus stood still, glued to his spot as he watched the two Ricks verbally spar with each other. Although he was impressed by his boss's fighting spirit, he also wanted to curl up and die; he fully expected them to become physical or violent at any given moment and he was the only one around to intervene if it became necessary.

Rather than rising to the bait, Riq IV lowered his voice instead. "Why are you really here? Don't waste my time and yours. Say what you mean to say."

"Ugh, fine. See, I was gonna leave you with the doc so you could honor your original appointment with him, but now that we're here..." The scientist trailed off and looked around him. "I want a bigger apartment like yours. One with multiple rooms and space for a private office. And I want my own bed. I nearly shit myself while waiting for the bathroom this morning, so there's that, too."

"Oh, really?" Riq IV didn't wait for a reply and took a small tablet computer out of his robes, spending only a brief moment going through the apartment ownership list. "According to the records, you were supplied with your own luxury-sized bed long before you moved in."

"I have two other idiots living with me now. They have to use the space as well, but it makes the apartment feel even more crowded than it already is." As he spoke, Rick briefly wondered just how far he could push his luck. "I'm not as comfortable as I could be, if you catch my drift."

"I... don't see how this is my problem." The Council leader's voice turned cold. "You were provided with adequate living space for you and your ridiculous, pet Morty. What you choose to do with your own private domain is none of my concern."

"But I thought I could have anything I wanted?" Rick challenged him. "So you were willing to give me a new liver, but not more space? You want me to make myself feel like I'm at home here, right? I'm a gold-tier Rick now... you should treat me like one."

Riq IV stared at him for a long moment and finally gave in; the request was so minor that it was easier to fulfill than to keep arguing. "Yes, the gold-ranked Ricks enjoy a higher quality of life because they've earned it. Although we have a housing shortage and a long list of Ricks waiting for accommodation, I can bump you to the top and arrange to have you moved into a luxury apartment." He resumed looking down at his tablet and made some minor changes by tapping on the screen. "But only AFTER your induction ceremony. If you want the perks of a gold-rank, you have to make it official."

"Yeaaahhh, no. I'm gonna need my own bed a lot sooner than that." Rick childishly persisted. "I've been sleeping on the floor and my back hurts."

Riq IV's left eyebrow twitched; he was already close to the breaking point. "I can... have something comfortable sent up to your room. Give me an hour at the very least."

"Good." Rick rewarded him with a smug grin; it was a petty win, but he still felt victorious.

Picking up his cup of tea again, the Council leader took a delicate sip and deliberately changed the topic. "Have you thought about what you're going to say in your induction speech yet?"

"Ugh... possibly." The scientist grunted in distaste at the thought. "It's gonna be a bunch of posturing and puffery, isn't it? I'm probably just gonna ad-lib it."

"Ah, if I may interject and return to the previous subject for a moment," Ricktus seemed reluctant at first, but he took a deep breath and stood tall. "Sir, living on your own goes against all medical advice you've been given. It is my duty to formally remind you that you're still on light duties for six weeks. If you're moving at the end of next week, then-"

"Then I suppose you're coming with me, aren't you? Duh." Rick finished the sentence for him, stating it like it was obvious. "Weren't you listening just now? T-there's a fuckin' housing crisis. Don't take up more room than you need. Save some for the other Ricks, huh?"

"B-but, sir-"

"But nothing." Rick cut him off. "First off, stop calling me 'sir' – how many times do I have to keep telling you? Secondly, I wouldn't need the extra room if the two of you weren't there, now would I? You just said that I can't live on my own and I'm not disputing that, but it's becoming clear that we need our own little private spaces. This is the most obvious next step, no?" He felt even more smug than before; not only had he just managed to invite the other two Ricks into his next living space without sounding needy or weak, he'd also managed to spin it under the guise of logic and convenience.

When he noticed that the doctor was staring at him attentively, he reared his head back and twisted his face into an expression of mock disapproval. "C'mon... why the hell are you still standing there? This appointment is on your time, too. Sit the fuck down and play with the high-rollers."

With a shallow nod, Ricktus took his place on the plush couch, keeping an equal distance in between the other two. "Of course." He immediately clutched his hands together, finding it easier to stare down at them. "Riq IV, sir... esteemed councilman and honorable leader, I wish to renegotiate the offer we received for getting the live retrieval to the Citadel alive. If it is to be believed that he is indeed the 'Rickest Rick', then surely he is worth more than your initial offer of 2.1 million Council credits."

"Hey now, there you go! You DO have a spine after all." Rick encouraged, almost sounding like he was coaching him. "But don't elevate him higher than you... you don't wanna come off sounding weak. He said mean stuff about you, remember? Now's your chance to stick it to him and act like he took a dump in your cereal."

Cringing at Rick's blatant honesty, Ricktus gave Riq IV a momentary apologetic glance and let out a small sigh. "Thank you for the suggestion, B-526... but I think talking business requires a bit more finesse than that." He returned his gaze to the scientist. "Look... you got me this far and I'm grateful, but I can take it from here."

"You sure?" Rick folded his arms across his chest. "You're not gonna break down and have another panic attack?"

"I'll be fine," the other tried to assure him in a serious, yet gentle tone. "Why don't you step out and go for a walk? You should be thinking about your upcoming meeting with Therapist Rick, after all."

"Fuck that shit," Rick immediately tensed and went on the defensive. "I still don't wanna go, a-and I'm only doing the bare minimum required of me to shut everyone up!"

Clinking the cup against the saucer as he finished off his tea, Riq IV gave them both a filthy look; he didn't understand their working relationship at all, but he was growing tired of listening to them. "I don't care how you feel, B-526. It was good of you to play your clever little bait-and-switch tactic to trick me into seeing your underling, but if you're done talking, then I need you to leave so we can get on with it. I have far-more-important business to attend to after this."

"Yeah? You always do, don't you?" Rick coldly taunted as he got to his feet and moved over to Morty. "So you want me to piss off? Fine. But if you screw around and try to rip off my guy, then you're gonna be hearing about it from me next time, got it?" He nudged his grandson with a foot and pointed towards the door, indicating that he should follow. "2.1 million credits, my ass... I better be worth WAAAYYY more than that."

Ricktus struggled to keep a neutral expression. While he was relieved to see Rick leave with Morty in tow, he was also amused; it felt good to see Riq IV finally getting a taste of his own medicine. He knew that Rick's boldness and brazen attitude would get him in serious trouble one day, but it still clearly had its place in the Citadel.

For not wanting to have anything to do with it initially, he'd certainly come a long way, and now he was starting to blend in like he'd belonged there all along.

* * *

After ordering breakfast at one of the cafes on the concourse, Rick sat down to kill some time, though the food was for Morty's benefit rather than his; he wasn't in the slightest bit hungry. His mind was far too preoccupied with speculating on what was about to happen during his first session with Therapist Rick, and he couldn't stand not knowing or being able to make a guess.

With a frustrated sigh, he took out his datapad to look up both the address and route he needed to take in order to get there, but it didn't take long for his attention to drift towards the area around him; he curiously noted that not only had the public demonstration been broken up, but there was no sign that there had even been one to begin with - the Citadel was back to the regular everyday hustle and bustle that he was slowly getting used to.

At five minutes to eleven, he scribbled a generous tip at the bottom of his table's tab, picked Morty up, and abandoned the mess that had been made.

He spent the whole trip grumbling to himself that he didn't want to go, but when he finally arrived at the correct door, there was nothing on it to indicate that there was anything of importance inside.

Although he found that a little odd, he quickly brushed it off and let himself in.

He was immediately met with a bland, open living space that looked as uncomfortably small and pokey as his own apartment, and the other Rick was busy working on something at his desk. However, he stopped and looked up in the moment he heard Rick enter.

"Ah, you've arrived just on time," he sounded neither friendly or unfriendly. "Sit anywhere you like."

Rick suddenly found himself on edge and acutely alert of his surroundings; his eyes darted around the room and he spotted the same kind of stereotypical leather chaise lounge he'd seen before in psychologists' offices in TV shows and movies; its mere presence made the situation feel more real and confronting. "So... how's this gonna work? Is this for real, o-or do I offer you a bribe to shut up for the next half hour?"

"Hah, very funny. You could if you wanted to, but because this appointment was officially sanctioned by the Council, I am required to add it to your records." The other Rick finished what he was doing and slowly stood up, clipboard in hand.

Rick's brow flattened as low as it would go as he realized how serious the other Rick was; there really was no worming his way out of this one. "Great... is it just me, or are all Citadel doctors as stuffy as you? Because I'm starting to notice a recurring theme around here." He glared at the other's clothes and motioned towards them. "A-and what's with the getup? A collared shirt and a tie? How the hell are you even a real Rick? I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that!"

Politely clearing his throat, Therapist Rick went on like nothing had been said. "As soon as you make yourself comfortable, we can begin."

Once he'd placed Morty on the floor with his toys, Rick chose a cushy chair furthest away from the leather chaise and glared at the brightly colored inkblot canvases decorating the walls. "Well, this probably comes as no surprise, but I don't wanna be here. Just gimme the fastest route through this bullshit so I never have to see you again."

"No Rick I've ever met in the history of the Citadel wants to admit to needing therapy, but taking care of yourself psychologically is paramount to a bearable existence." The other Rick gently told him. "I'd offer you a drink to help you relax, but your file specifically tells me not to."

"Yeeeaaah... that's not a voluntary choice, let me assure you!" It came out far more bitter than he had intended, but he bared his teeth and decided to keep going with the thought. "You wanna add that to my file, too? Wait, does it say if it's temporary or permanent?"

"Hmm, we'll come back to that one." Therapist Rick politely commented as he took two careful paces towards the scientist, his eyes down as he began writing notes. "I see you brought your Morty along with you this time. Is he here for moral support or comfort?"

"Neither." Rick calmed down a little and answered truthfully, seeing no reason to lie. "It's stupid and unrealistic to keep asking the others to babysit him. He's supposed to be my responsibility, and they're gonna get sick of him before long. Besides, I did this, so I gotta fix it. It's because of me that he's clingy as all hell, s-so... it's better this way." He cast an apologetic glance down at the young boy.

However, Morty didn't notice or care; he was having too much fun banging his toy portal gun on the wooden floorboards.

"I see." The other Rick replied, but did not look up. "We're not here to work on him today, but we can schedule him for another appointment if it puts your mind at ease. Just know that children are more adaptable than adults. With luck and a consistent, positive environment, he'll grow out of it in time."

"Hah! Yeah, I know a guy who talks just like that." Rick dryly laughed. "You two would probably get along."

Therapist Rick made a thoughtful hum and ignored his attempt at sidestepping the discussion. "Morty will be all right, but you're clearly not, are you?"

"Wow... worst. Segue. Ever." It came out of his mouth so smoothly, but Rick could already feel his internal defenses rising; he had a bad feeling about what was coming next. He hated talking about himself enough as it was, but here was another version of himself listening this time, who probably knew him better than he knew himself.

And worse, this Rick had the educational background to back it up.

Surprisingly, the therapist didn't go in the direction that he thought he would. Instead of coming closer, he paced back across the room and returned to his desk.

Rick said nothing at first, but quickly caved in due to burning curiosity. "OK... what the fuck are you doing? Because you're being super weird."

"I want to tell you that I think I understand you," the other nestled the fingers of his hands in each other and set them down in front of him. "I've read through your case file in detail and neither of us wants to spend our time discussing how bad things are, or how they make you feel – I can already guess without having to ask."

Rick raised an eyebrow but said nothing; he was relieved about not having to explain himself for once.

"I also want to tell you that all your shit will still be there tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that." The other Rick continued. "So slow down and pace yourself. You don't have to rush through your problems and try to solve them all at once. It might take you weeks, or months, or even years... and some Ricks never get over it. That's fine as well."

"Phh... well, that was easy." Rick scoffed.

The therapist ignored him again. "You don't have to talk, but if you want to satisfy the Council and never have to come back to see me, then we DO need to address your outstanding suicidal issues."

And just like that, there it was. A furious growl rose up in the scientist's throat, and he would've gotten up a lot more quickly if it wasn't for his injuries. "What more is there to discuss? You said so yourself, you've already read my case file, so... w-whatever. We're done." With a sharp huff, he headed for the door. "Pick up your shit, Morty. We're leaving. NOW."

"Oh my god... stop avoiding it and sit the hell back down. We're not going to touch on anything you don't already know." Therapist Rick's professional demeanor began to fray. "I'm only going to dispense advice. You might want to think about it the next time you feel like popping a cap between your eyes. Now, are you gonna stay? Or am I gonna have to book you in for twelve more appointments?"

The threat made Rick stop in his tracks and he turned to face him again. "Well played, you cunning bastard." He conceded through gritted teeth. "Go on, you have my attention. You also have about twenty seconds before you lose it again."

"To be honest, your case file is boring. I've heard the same story all too many times before." Therapist Rick didn't mince his words and started to lay down the facts as he saw them. "You've let alcohol become an easy escape from all the things you'd rather avoid. Shitty home life? Drink. Frustrated or disillusioned? Drink. Failure? Drink. Hate yourself for the stupid things you've done? Drink. Now you have to deal with your shit and you can't dull it that way anymore. It's a lot to take in, and it can feel like part of your identity is missing when you remove such a big element of your life."

Rick rolled his eyes and made a poker face as if he did not care. "Where are you going with this?"

"Shut your damn mouth and keep listening," the other harshly cuffed him. "Stop hiding from your own inadequacies and what they've cost you. It's not bad to feel bad when bad things have happened to you. And it's natural to feel bad about those things - if you didn't, you'd be a goddamn sociopath."

The therapist and the scientist sat in the long silence that followed. One patiently waited, while the other took the words into consideration - they just wouldn't sit right with him.

"But I... I-I am a bad person."

"You've done bad things," Therapist Rick corrected him. "Doing bad things doesn't make you a bad person. If you give therapy a chance, we can talk about them, but only if you want to. You can never make your problems go away, but you can work through them with help." He reached over to pull a blank medical form from his top drawer. "Before we run out of time today, I'm gonna go ahead and write you up a prescription for diazepam. I suggest using it for the next-"

"Wait, Valium?" Rick abruptly cut in, finding the suggestion ludicrous. "You... y-you want me to trade one addictive habit for another?"

"If you'd let me finish, I would've told you that I want you to consider using a therapeutic dose the next time you go through another suicidal episode. Take it, sit somewhere quiet, and give it about fifteen minutes to start working." After giving him a firm, disapproving look, he filled out the form, authorized it with his signature, and then slid it across the table. "Alcohol withdrawal can cause a myriad of different symptoms, including anxiety, depression, and exhaustion. It'll also give you a break from the constant cravings you must be experiencing. It won't be long before you start fantasizing about drinking the drain cleaner under your kitchen sink, I imagine. Take this and try to stay alive until our next session."

Rick glanced at the door, then at the paper, then back at the door again, feeling torn; he was more than aware of his alcoholic tendencies, and he knew in his heart of hearts that tackling the problem head on was the only way forward.

But in spite of everything, even though it had nearly killed him, he still liked the way it made him feel.

With a heavy sigh of resignation, he glanced down, knowing that his focus needed to be on Morty; he really didn't want to toss away one habit only to pick up another, and knew that the little boy deserved so much better. "Wh... w-what are... are you doing anything in the next half hour?"

"No." The reply was immediate. "Why? Did you want to sit back down?"

* * *

With a single knock, Rick nudged his apartment door open and came back inside with Morty under one arm. He spotted Surgeon Rick immediately; he was still in his pajamas, and was propped up in bed with a book, while a perimeter of junk food surrounded him. He looked like the perfect picture of contentedness, but Rick was fairly certain that he hadn't moved an inch since he had left.

"'Sup? You were gone for ages." Surgeon Rick looked up at him, breaking the silence first. "How'd everything go?"

"It went." Rick didn't want to lie, but he also didn't want to give away more details than necessary. "I did what I was supposed to do. Now I'm back."

"Yeah, I can see that." The surgeon studied his expression for a moment, and his eyes widened as he mentally connected the dots. "OH. Yeah, shit... how was therapy?"

Annoyance welled up in the scientist's chest and he let out a warning growl. "I-I just told you."

"Right..." Surgeon Rick awkwardly clicked his tongue; he knew there was more to it and wanted to keep pushing, but he wasn't willing to put another dent in their friendship so soon after the prank incident and changed the subject. "Uh, hey. You got another delivery while you were out. Some Courier Ricks came in with a single bed. There's nowhere to put it out here, so I told 'em to move it into Morty's room. Hope you don't mind. I knew it was for you anyway, so I figured you'd probably wanna sleep in the same room as him."

All traces of ire melted away from the scientist's face and he gave a short nod in appreciation.

The surgeon decided to try one last time. "So... are you OK?"

Turning his head away, Rick headed for the couch. "N-not really."

"Damn." Surgeon Rick gently set his book on the nightstand and finally got out of bed, figuring that even if Rick didn't want to talk, he might not want to be alone either. "If you wanna turn your brain off for the rest of the afternoon, we could watch a bunch of shitty B-grade movies or something. Or I could order in some fast food if you're hungry. And if that doesn't interest you, we could abuse your gold-rank privileges and have a game console sent up to the apartment. Do any of those options sound good to you?"

Once he'd gotten both himself and Morty comfortable in their respective spots, Rick leaned back on the couch and gave Surgeon Rick a halfhearted glare. "Are you trying to make me feel better by enticing me with stupid-ass things you think I'd find interesting?"

"Blatantly." The surgeon immediately smirked back, then flopped down on the cushion beside him and picked up the TV remote.

"Phh, that's sad..."

"Yeah, but is it working?"

Rick actually considered the question for a brief moment. "Maybe a little."

Halfway through the first movie, Ricktus had come back to the apartment as well. When he noticed how deeply focused everyone was on the screen, he came up behind the couch and gently set his hands on the backrest, not wanting to startle anyone. "What the hell is this garbage?"

"Schmaltzopus VS The Gandhi Clones," Surgeon Rick told him, sounding faraway. "Sit your ass down, bro. You're gonna miss the best part."

"Ah... I think I can live without it." Ricktus exhaled a soft sigh, then moved his datapad into his colleague's field of vision. "Did you get a chance to read this medication-update notification yet? Why would B-526's therapist prescribe Valium?"

Instinctively, the surgeon batted the device away. "No way, man. I've been having a 'me' day. The only thing I read today was a chapter on how to make a Faster-Than-Light drive using only a car battery, a pound of erchius crystals, and four citrus fruits."

"You only need three if they're high in ascorbic acid." Rick threw in the extra comment, then covered a yawn with his hand. "Hold that thought, because it's been bugging me and I wanna know if I have my facts straight. You never built your own portal gun or a spaceship, did you?" He turned to the doctor. "And you somehow managed to do both?"

"That would be correct, yes." Ricktus nodded, but his expression was a mix of irritation and confusion, not understanding why he was asking.

"You had the brains to know how to build a spaceship, and you couldn't even fix your own derelict, garbage-ship's communication console?" Rick felt smug all over again. "And if you had access to an infinite number of universes, then why didn't you just keep dimension hopping until you found yourself a new Morty? It would've been far less hassle than everything you've put yourself through."

"Not all Ricks have the same knowledge and understanding of electronic devices like you," the answer was surprisingly calm and honest. "Not all Ricks are created equal. For instance, do YOU know how to perform a gastric lavage, or know anything about heart surgery?"

"Hmm, touché."

"Without the Citadel's interdimensional database, I could have been blindly looking through the multiverse forever. And once it was set up on my ship, I never did find a suitable dimension that matched my search parameters... you think I didn't consider that option as soon as it became available to me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Rick conceded, brushing him off with a wave of his hand. "But now that you've got all this free time to do whatever you want, why don't you teach C-711 how to build his own spaceship? If you wanna repair your friendship, that's a great place to start."

"Hey, that's actually a pretty cool idea," Surgeon Rick agreed. "Do you wanna build a spaceship?"

Ricktus refrained from voicing his thoughts, but he clearly wasn't pleased. "...we've strayed very far off topic." He turned back to face the surgeon, and then began discussing Rick like he wasn't there at all. "This is preposterous... is Therapist Rick a hack? Why would he prescribe a drug that has known abuse potential, to a Rick with an addiction, knowing full well that he has an addictive personality?"

"What does it matter, yo?" Scooting forwards on his cushion, Surgeon Rick turned to face the doctor properly, mildly annoyed; he was missing his movie. "What are you afraid of? That he'll mix it with alcohol? That he'll overdose, even though he's in a controlled environment and hanging out with two qualified, medical Ricks? The dude needs the freedom to make his own decisions. You gotta let him. If you're so worried, I can do it first-"

"You are absolutely unbelievable, C-711." Ricktus cut him off, shook his head in disappointment, then moved away to the kitchenette. "I'm willing to do a number of things for the boss, but volunteering as a spotter while you both experiment with pharmaceuticals isn't one of them." Just as quickly as his bad mood had come, he let it go again. "I'm making coffee. Would you like some?"

"Hell yeah, bro." It didn't need any consideration. "Don't you find it even slightly hypocritical that you put one drug down, only to offer me another?"

"Caffeine is socially acceptable and legal." Ricktus spoke like he was reading from a bland textbook. "I don't need to explain something so rudimentary to you, unless your brain is taking a 'me' day as well."

"Yeah, whatever you say, Doctor Boring. You're not funny even when you're trying to be." The surgeon rolled his eyes, then turned back to face Rick. "Yo, what about you? Do you want coffee?"

"Pass." Rick didn't look away from the TV. "Now that I have a bed of my own again, I think I'm gonna turn in for a nap as soon as Morty is ready to go down as well."

"Oh, you do? Excellent." Ricktus sounded pleased. "I couldn't stop you from sleeping on the couch, but I sure as hell didn't approve of it."

"Shut up. I don't wanna have ANOTHER discussion about that." Rick grumbled, giving Morty a subtle glance to see what he was up to.

The little boy wasn't far away on the floor, but he didn't look anywhere close to being tired; his mind was thoroughly engrossed in a shape-sorter toy, and no matter how he rotated the square-shaped piece in his tiny hands, he just couldn't make it fit into the round hole. After five more attempts of repeatedly trying to bash it into place, he made a growl and shoved the whole toy over, frustrated at his failure.

Ricktus came over to the couch with the two cups he had just finished making. "Don't worry about him, B-526. You're under strict orders to rest often, so you should leave. We can watch over him while you're asleep."

It was a simple suggestion and Rick wanted to take it because he needed the downtime; he felt both physically and mentally exhausted. However, he also knew how likely the child was to scream for him the second he left the room, so he stayed put. "I-I will when he's tired..."

"You need to sleep," Ricktus insisted, this time a little more forcefully. "We've managed your Morty well enough already. We did it in the days you were unconscious after your surgery-"

"Lizabeth did, you mean," Surgeon Rick talked over him, "and I helped. You've been evading taking care of him since we took him back from the bird dude, 'cause you got more issues than a comic book store."

He needed a few seconds to contain his annoyance, but Ricktus kept persisting. "We'll be fine without you, B-526. Take care of yourself first and foremost." He handed one cup of coffee to his colleague, took a sip from his own, then pointed towards Morty's room. "Get out of here and go to bed before I start sounding like our mother. This is the one thing I still have authority over you on, and I will not hesitate to exercise it if necessary."

Rick slowly got to his feet, giving up. "Yeah, yeah... whatever. Just don't let me sleep too long, OK?" He cautiously paced away from the couch, nervously watching Morty the whole time. "Are you gonna let me leave, little buddy?" He asked once he was standing in the doorway to the little boy's room.

To his surprise, Morty didn't seem worried at all; the youngster took one look at him and turned his shape-sorter toy back upright, more interested in trying to solve the mystery behind it over everything else. Even after the door had closed, he didn't bat an eyelid.

"Wow. I have... never seen that before." Surgeon Rick sounded impressed. "Is that progress or something else? What do we do about it?"

"Nothing. Act like it's normal. If you draw too much attention to it, he might get suspicious." Ricktus suggested as he moved around the couch, his eyes attentively locked on Morty. "It IS unusual behavior, though... I simply can't understand why he's fine with his primary caregiver disappearing from sight, especially after how much he cried for him while we were at your daughter's house." He drank the whole cup of coffee, set it aside, and sat down on the floor nearby. "It defies all logic... is it because he's analyzing a problem?"

"Oh, so NOW you're interested in what he's doing?" Surgeon Rick smirked, half-teasing, half-serious.

"I have some serious catching up to do... I've been so focused on trying to get a new Morty that I've never actually taken the time to observe how they behave to know what's normal." The other admitted after a moment of silence. "I successfully renegotiated our live-retrieval offer, which means that for the first time ever, I finally have a viable shot at buying a replacement Morty... I-I never thought I'd get this far so soon. Not after how spectacularly I failed at every task I was given..."

Surgeon Rick's eyebrows shot up at the news. "How much?"

Instead of answering, Ricktus asked a question of his own. "How do you feel about getting your cut after the Morty auction on Sunday?"

"Not good, bro." Surprise morphed into suspicion. "How much did you renegotiate for? Stop fucking around and just tell me straight up."

"15 million Council credits," the other spoke with no emotion in his voice. "It's more than enough to buy three Mortys at the current market value, as well as a brand-new apartment in any of the upcoming building projects..."

If he wasn't already sitting down, Surgeon Rick would have fallen over from shock. "H... holy fucking shit... for real?!" He was barely able to put his cup down on the coffee table because his hands were shaking so much. "P-please... please tell me you're not bullshitting me!"

Ricktus silently shook his head, his face as serious as ever.

"Wow..." The surgeon actually needed time to sit there and take it in. "So... what happens now? Because even a tenth of that would buy my kid a two-story house on the good side of town. She'd never have to worry about paying the bills ever again."

"I'm not certain." Ricktus quietly answered as he picked up one of Morty's shape-sorting pieces and absentmindedly dropped it into its correlating slot. "My advice would be to carry on as normal - our boss will still need assistance for the time being. But this payout means that we don't have to keep nagging him for paid work. It also sets both of us up forever... we could move out and buy our own places if we wanted to."

Morty stared wide-eyed at the toy, looking like the secrets of the universe had just been revealed to him.

"But I don't wanna," Surgeon Rick meant it to be serious, but it came out sounding childish. "It's been too long since I've had it this good, man. My daughter is finally talking to me without being a colossal bitch, I get to do whatever I want for the most part, and you get to be an equal instead of a bossy-boots arrogant dick. I don't wanna lose any of that so soon... why do you wanna shake it up?"

"I imagine that B-526 will get sick of us before long, unless he's already sick of us now." Ricktus dryly mused. "Though, now that I've had time to think about it, it didn't really sound that way in Riq IV's office."

The comment managed to bring the surgeon out of his mood. "Huh? What do ya mean?"

"Ah, we're moving after the assembly." Ricktus quickly explained as he remembered the details. "Our boss pushed for a bigger apartment and got his request approved almost immediately. He specifically told me we'd be going with him, too."

"Nice," Surgeon Rick was grinning all over again. "He really does like having us around. Who knew that the best way to make friends was by abducting them?"

Rolling his eyes and reserving his thoughts on the subject to himself, Ricktus remained seated on the floor to continue observing Morty's behavior, while Surgeon Rick went back to watching his movie. It didn't take long for the youngster to start giving his toy pieces to the strange Rick so he could learn where their correct positions were, and soon enough, it was impossible to tell who was observing whom.

On the other side of Morty's bedroom door, Rick was silent as he listened to the conversation that had taken place. He'd been exhausted when he'd come in initially, but now that he was lying down and under the warm sheets of his new bed, he was wide awake and unable to switch off, his brain going at a hundred miles an hour.

He remembered the roll-away cot back in Birdperson's tree house and now he missed it in a strange way; the association of being there meant being in the middle of adventures, even if they were fraught with danger, war, or they had meant staring death in the face. In spite of having everything he needed in the apartment, except perhaps more space to tinker and invent, a shadow of discontentment hung over him; he knew that living in the Citadel ultimately meant being tied down again.

It was blatantly obvious that Surgeon Rick was the most domesticated out of all three of them, and knowing how well he was going to thrive in the apartment brought the scientist great satisfaction; he knew that the surgeon finally had a reason to be happy.

Unfortunately, Rick couldn't say the same for himself; he'd always felt like his creativity had been smothered by the suburban-home-life situations he'd found himself in before. Even the love he had for his own daughter could never keep him anchored for long, and his wanderlust for the stars had caused him to drift away.

He'd ruined his first family by abandoning them for wild and crazy adventures. The consequences of those same adventures had come back to bite him and murder his second.

He vowed that there would not be a third.

He tried to assure himself again that things would be different this time. When sleepiness eventually came to him, he tried to mentally convince himself that if the other Ricks could become more assertive like him, then surely he could become more domesticated like them.

He was determined to adapt and survive, whatever the cost - even if it killed him.

* * *

When the second movie's credits finished rolling across the screen, the Citadel's evening news headlines came on and Surgeon Rick ordered Chinese takeout to be sent up to the apartment. However, by the time it had arrived, Rick still hadn't emerged from Morty's room and the two Ricks gave each other identical glances as the same thought passed through their heads.

"Dibs on not doing it," Surgeon Rick got in first, "I don't wanna wake him up and make him mad."

"And you think I do?" Ricktus countered. "Forget it. I've already done more than enough to earn his wrath."

"What's one more thing?" The surgeon flashed him a cocky grin. You gotta respect dibs, man. If you don't, then what else is there?"

Shaking his head, the doctor gave in and stood up. "I don't know... perhaps behaving like an adult?"

"Hey, being an adult means you get to define what that means. So if I wanna laze around all day in my pajamas, you can't stop me."

"Except they're not even yours..." Ricktus muttered, mostly to himself.

He needn't have bothered. As soon as he'd turned towards the door, it flew open; Rick's stomach had informed him that it was long overdue for food, and the intoxicating smell lured him out of one of the deepest sleeps he'd ever been in.

"Goddamn... w-what time is it?" The scientist seemed a little disorientated at first, but a quick look at the TV and the sky beyond the balcony answered his question. "Ah shit, it's night?! Why the hell did you let me sleep all afternoon? Now the sleeping pattern I just got into is gonna be all fucked up!"

"Phh, that's all you're worried about?" Surgeon Rick tried to play it off like it was nothing, then pushed one of the takeout boxes on the table towards him. "And miss out on the best dumplings you've ever had this side of the multiverse? I don't think so."

Rick was about to object as he came over, but hunger won out and he begrudgingly snatched up the container to begin eating. "That's not the point," he said through a mouthful of food, "I-I told you not to... to... holy shit. These are actually really good."

"Yeah?" The surgeon smirked, considering his diversion successful. "Just wait 'til you try the duck pancakes. They'll blow your mind."

After Rick had taken his place on the couch again, dinner was eaten in relative silence with the TV on for background noise. Now that it was quiet once more, the scientist looked at everyone around him, recalling the therapist's words:

" _You don't have to rush through your problems and try to solve them all at once."_

The advice had sounded so stupid at the time, but in hindsight it made sense; he'd bounded from one problem to the next so quickly that he'd never actually stopped and taken enough time to think any of them through, let alone deal with them. Of course, Ricktus had told him the same thing back on the ship, but he'd been so self-absorbed in his own anger over being captured that he'd flat-out rejected it.

Now that the chaos was dying down and he was in a safe, predictable environment, it was sobering; the prospect of finally facing his problems was a daunting one, and he knew that if he wasn't strong enough to cope, then it was going to be a very long fall indeed.

He was glad for the alcohol he had hidden away as a last resort, but the Valium prescription in his pocket was also starting to seem like a highly intriguing idea.

Noticing his boss's subtly troubled expression, Surgeon Rick reached for the remote control and began channel surfing until he found a deathball game to watch. "Oh hey, the finals are on. You want me to leave this on?"

Ricktus quizzically raised an eyebrow. "You like watching idiots run around?"

Surgeon Rick didn't even wait a second before answering. "Sure. I hang out with you, don't I?"

"Oh come on, that's a cheap shot and you know it. You'll take any opportunity to be terrible, won't you?" Despite his disapproving frown, there was no hostility in the reply.

Although both Rick and Surgeon Rick seemed interested in the brutality and violence, Ricktus didn't care for it; he saw no point in lifeforms murdering each other for the sake of sport. When he heard the soft sounds at his feet, he looked down; Morty was emptying out his toy box, one toy at a time, and leaving them in a pile at his feet.

He wasn't about to stop him either - it was far more entertaining to watch than the TV. Morty seemed to be having fun at first, too; his initial noises were playful and soft, but by the third armful of toys, he started to slow down and the gurgles were turning into pained, little whines.

"Goddammit, Morty... what's wrong with you now?" Rick noticed right away, but didn't want to move unless absolutely necessary; he was far too comfortable.

"Hmm... sudden onset discomfort, no outward symptoms," Ricktus mumbled aloud to nobody in particular as he thought about it like a clinical case that needed solving. "He's not hungry, because he ate with the rest of us. Did he sprain a muscle just now? He WAS lifting things."

"Yeah right," Surgeon Rick laughed as he overheard him. "Unless he's been helping you move furniture all day, then I doubt that it's that. Apply Occam's Razor, dude - the simplest answer is usually correct. When my kid was that little, she was either hungry, gassy, overtired, or she needed a diaper change. You've already ruled out the first one, so... yeah, good luck with the others. Dibs on not doing it."

"What? No! I'm not honoring your stupid dibs!" The doctor's voice rose in objection. "Whatever happened to wanting to be an equal?"

"Yeah, I still want that, but you're closer to the kid than I am." Surgeon Rick teased back. "You said you wanna take care of all the Mortys, didn't ya? Think of it as hands-on experience."

Although Ricktus knew the comment had been made in good humor, it still struck a raw nerve and he was furious. However, Morty's unhappy noises grew increasingly worse until he was red in the face and bawling, essentially ending the argument for both of them.

Within seconds, a highly offensive odor began to taint the air.

Despite its unpleasantness, Surgeon Rick couldn't believe his luck and broke into a proper fit of laughter. "O-oh my god... we have a bingo, everybody!"

"Wonderful..." With a barely contained growl, Ricktus tried one last time. "Why do I have to do this? I'll give you a thousand Council credits right now if you change his diaper."

"Fuck off, bro, I wouldn't even do it for a million!" Surgeon Rick managed to say in between his loud snickering. "You wanna be an equal, right? Then we gotta even up the score a bit."

One look at Surgeon Rick's expression and his boss's reclined position told him that there would be no escaping the task. After picking the still-screaming youngster up, he held him at arm's reach as if he were a biohazard; in that moment, he practically was.

"Fine, I'll do it," he grumpily declared, "but if you're childish enough to keep score, then I demand a reset to the counter because I refuse to play catch-up!" With that, he huffily turned on his heels and marched into Morty's bedroom.

"Well, if you ever needed proof that even the most proper of Ricks can be pushed into petty bullshit, then look no further." Rick let out a soft chuckle, finding the behavior both amusing and a little pathetic. "But you should probably go in there and save him."

Surgeon Rick's face immediately fell in disappointment. "Aww man... why?"

"Because I'm tired... a-and my head hurts. You handle it." Rick answered truthfully. "For real though, you've known him longer than I have, and you know how hard he's gonna fuck it up. This is also an opportunity for you to teach a lesson instead of being an asshole. Take it before the window closes."

"Fair point. Can't argue with that..." With a reluctant nod of agreement, Surgeon Rick got up and went to stand in the doorway of the smaller room, peeking inside.

At the changing table on the far side of Morty's bedroom, Ricktus seemed to have a hold on the situation; everything he needed was already laid out, and Morty had been buckled in place so he couldn't fall off, but now his little arms and legs were thrashing around as he sobbed in protest to the loss of his freedom in addition to his pain.

"Calm yourself, young man. I cannot help you if you try to fight me." Ricktus gently admonished him as he snapped on a pair of disposable gloves, figuring they were essential for what he was about to do. "You know, you're just like your Rick... he wouldn't cooperate either when he was tied down just like that. But things will be a lot easier for both of us if you could, so what do you say?"

The only reply he received was a pathetic whimper before the cries began anew.

"Oh, I see how it is. Very well." The doctor clapped his hands together to ready himself before going in, then grabbed the first flailing leg within reach and began undoing the fasteners on the little boy's clothing. "After this is done, I can give you something for the intestinal pain, and maybe even something to help you sleep. How does that sound? Oh god..."

What he found waiting for him underneath was far worse than anticipated; the semi-liquid contents of Morty's diaper had escaped out both leg cuffs and thoroughly soiled the inside of his onesie. Even though Ricktus had enough foresight to put gloves on beforehand, he still reared his head back and cautiously pried the clothing off the youngster's legs using only two fingers, minimizing contact and treating him like a toxic substance.

"Goddamn, child... what the hell have you been eating?!" He was both disgusted and horrified at the same time, but used his free hand to pull out half the pack of wet wipes to start containing the mess, also clenching his teeth to stop himself from gagging at the smell. "Jesus Christ, how can something so small create so much shit? I think I need a hazmat suit over here..."

"Whew, diaper blowout on the first try? That's some bad luck right there." As amusing as it was to keep watching, Surgeon Rick stepped in; it had gone on long enough. "You're the kid doctor, dude. I would've thought you'd be used to seeing this stuff all the time."

"I deal with their insides. Not what comes out of them." Ricktus corrected him, not looking up. "I didn't even have to deal with it in a diagnostic sense because that's the lab's job, not mine. It's grunt work... it's below my level of expertise. I always allocated it to the ward orderlies." He suddenly snatched at the other flailing leg to hold it still. "Stop that, Morty. You're going to spread it everywhere!"

"Um, you should try calming down first." Surgeon Rick suggested. "If you're mad, it ain't gonna work for you, no matter how hard ya try."

The other wasn't listening, and was nearly yelling as he deprived Morty of his top layer. "Oh my god, how does shit defy gravity?! I-it's all up his back!" He yanked more wipes out of the pack, and after using them, he added them to the small mountain that was starting to accumulate. "Don't just stand there, C-711... do something useful!"

"I was." Surgeon Rick's voice momentarily soured as he defended himself, but he knew better than to feed into the other's highly charged mood and bent over to pluck a stray toy off the floor. "Kids mimic your emotions, dude. If you're upset, they're upset. You gotta keep your shit together if you wanna stay in control. And that's not a Morty-specific thing, either. It's more of a general kid... thing." He waved it over the little boy's face once he was close enough. "Hey look, Morty! A distraction!"

Despite his feelings, Morty's cries were already receding, and by the time he was stripped naked, his full attention was on the brightly colored object above. Once calm, the noises became giggles and he waved his little hands about in the air, making uncoordinated grabs for it.

"Well, that could have been worse, but to quote you directly... on a scale of one to fucked, that was pretty high up there." Ricktus admitted as he balled up all the soiled clothes and wipes, dropping everything straight into the trashcan below. "Don't bother laundering anything. Just burn it all."

"Geez, no need to be so dramatic." The surgeon suppressed another snicker. "Shit happens, dude. Literally. It kinda comes with the territory."

"Well, yes... but again, I've never really had to deal with it. A doctorate and a double specialty trumps grunt work any day of the week." Ricktus removed one glove and then the other, discarding them as well. "I can't believe you willingly tortured yourself by doing this every day for years."

"Yeah, I did," Surgeon Rick almost sounded proud now. "But the fun stuff far outweighs all the bad shit, and it doesn't take 'em long to grow out of the diaper phase. It'll go by so quick, you'll be laughing about it one day."

"We'll see about that..." Ricktus gently picked the naked youngster up and stared hard at him. "Now what are we supposed to do? He still smells unpleasant and I could use more wipes to fix it, but it would be easier to run him a bath."

"You think? No way, man. That Morty reacts like sodium when he touches water." Creasing his brow, Surgeon Rick offered another solution. "Say, why don't you hang tight while I go get a bucket of warm, soapy water? You can wash him off with a wet cloth."

Finding the idea agreeable, the doctor nodded. "Yes, and while you're at it, take the trash out before it makes the whole apartment smell. And burn the changing table."

This time, Surgeon Rick shook his head and kept his snappy comeback to himself as he left.

"Well, Morty, you've created more than enough trouble for everyone this evening," Ricktus told him in a mock-serious voice. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Poking his tongue out, Morty blew a raspberry and kicked his short little legs in the air. Unfortunately for him, there was nothing covering his lower half and when he started peeing, it went straight out in front of him.

"Oh god!" Ricktus held him at his full arm's length again, but that only made it worse and he managed to get it all down the front of his coat and shoes. "Well, that's just great... did you do that on purpose?" He narrowed his eyes in disapproval once it was over. "At the very least, I hope you're feeling better now that you've gotten all that out of your system."

Morty just silently stared back at him, wide-eyed, confused, and completely clueless.

* * *

In the time it took Surgeon Rick and Ricktus to finish dealing with Morty, Rick had retreated to his workstation, and had already pulled apart all three of the antigravity generators he'd ordered, along with his coffee machine and one of the standard-issue portal guns he'd found lying around. Now he was repurposing their innards to create something entirely new.

It didn't take a genius to work out what was going on when he heard the commotion coming from the next room, but he said nothing as he watched the other Ricks pace in and out again; as long as he didn't have to step in, he didn't care.

When he saw Ricktus striding towards him with Morty in his peripheral vision, he gave a soft, annoyed grunt, set his soldering iron aside, and turned his chair towards them, annoyed at being disturbed. "What?"

"Look, I don't know what you've been feeding your Morty, but it has to stop." Ricktus sternly instructed after placing the little boy down on the floor beside his new boss's chair. "Your terrible dietary choices are making him sick. Do I need to give you a lesson on proper nutrition? Because you've got to take better care of him."

"Ugh, I'll be fine, thanks." Rick made a face, then turned back to what he'd been doing. "You think it's my fault?"

"Yes," the other replied instantly. "And before you try shifting blame onto us, remember that your Morty has been microchipped to you. I haven't fed him recently, and C-711 giving him snacks doesn't count. At the end of the day, he is your sole responsibility and you need to moderate his intake. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yeah, whatever. Go away." Rick turned his new invention onto its side and sent sparks flying across his workstation as he soldered a contact into position; he was no longer paying attention.

Even though he wasn't satisfied with the answer, Ricktus let it go and came around the other side of his boss's chair. "Also, while I've got you here... I've been thinking about this all day. If I have free reign to do anything I want, then I want to start a new lab project with my own funding. The only downside is that it still needs a gold-rank Rick to sign off on it." He took a folded piece of paper out of his coat pocket.

"What? You don't need me for anything. I already gave you permission to forge my signature." Rick grumbled, but the form had already been tossed onto his workstation along with a pen. "Ugh, why is this wet?"

Ricktus kept a stoic face and didn't answer.

"Don't worry, I think I can guess. Gross..." Rick unfolded the form anyway and flipped through it, but it was mostly blank. "Lab project, huh? What are you gonna do? Because you got your Morty issue covered now. More space bees? Biological warfare? Are ya gonna develop a vaccine to help prevent Space AIDS?"

"It's a, a, ah..." The doctor stopped himself. "It's a surprise."

"Yeah?" After using his free hand to scribble an untidy signature across the bottom of the last page, Rick handed it back to him. "Go knock yourself out. I actually don't care what you're plotting. Just make it worthwhile."

Ricktus delicately took the form back and needed a moment to stand there and take it in; having a legitimate signature made it feel real and far more official. "If only everything in the Citadel were that easy." With a singular nod, he headed for the bathroom. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need a shower to wash off the stench. Your Morty caused a contamination breach, if you know what I mean."

"Hah! A-are you SURE you still want one?" Rick joked, snickering loudly. "It's not too late to turn back and buy yourself a one-way ticket to Get-The-Fuck-Outta-Heresville."

He didn't get an answer; Ricktus had already shut the door on him.

"Gee, buddy... you didn't waste much time giving him the whole authentic Morty experience, did ya?" The scientist cast his gaze down towards his grandson and grinned at him. "Though I'm surprised he didn't get it sooner. Oh well."

Morty was silent as he scooted towards his grandfather's legs and leaned against them for comfort; even though he'd been given pain relief, his miserable expression and pathetic posture made it clear that it hadn't taken effect just yet.

"Oh, hey... you're really not feeling well? That's a shame." The scientist's amusement faded, but the new information also motivated him to work faster. "Lucky for you, I'm making something special that I just know you're gonna love. If you could gimme a little more time..." He turned the invention back upright and stood up, hunching over it as he hastily soldered more components into their right places. "Do you remember that zero-gravity chamber we took a nap in? D-do you, Morty?"

The only reply he received was a small gurgle of protest; Morty hadn't wanted him to move.

"Well, this is gonna be a lot like that, but much, much smaller." Rick went on with his explanation, then grabbed a metal funnel from the coffee machine and mounted it to the top of the device with more hot-liquid solder. "See this baby right here, Morty? Yeah, it's gonna make you feel like you're all the way back in space, being free and boundless, f-floating around with no gravity weighing you down. It's gonna be great."

A small whimper came from his feet as he sat down again.

Over the next few minutes, the scientist rewired a power supply and attached it to the existing circuitry, then cobbled together a half-assed case and screwed it onto the frame. Even though he knew he could have done so much more to refine his work, he still proudly picked it up and held it out, presenting it to Morty. "You wanna name it for me, buddy?"

"Mmm-mmmh... aah-wa-wa-wuh..."

"Are you sure? Well, OK, it doesn't do anything for me, but I'll take it." With another soft chuckle, the old man carefully slid off his chair and sat cross-legged on the floor with it. "I'd be a giant hypocrite if I criticized your choices, Morty. You don't even wanna know what I name my stuff."

Once the new invention was plugged in and turned on, Rick waved a hand through the symmetrical, conical field being generated to test if it was safe. Satisfied with the result, he reached over to pluck Morty off the floor and gently put him into it. The little boy immediately drifted towards the edge, and when he began to wriggle in surprise, Rick gently nudged him back towards the center.

"Calm down... i-imagine you're in space again. Every movement you make determines your drift. Just let it take you, OK?"

As Morty slowly rotated upside-down, his head tilted back and he stared at his grandfather, taking in what he was saying. The instructions made sense somewhere in his baby mind, and a flash of understanding passed through his expression before he relaxed his limbs and let himself float.

"Hey, you got it. Good job, Morty!" Rick wasted no time praising him. "I've been wanting to make something like this for you ever since I discovered how much you like space. You do like it, don't ya? I thought it might help you sleep better, o-or help get you though those rough nights at the very least."

The feeling of weightlessness had a powerful lulling effect on the little boy, and in no time at all he began to drift off to sleep; it was well past his bedtime anyway.

"I got more shit to do, but I'm not moving far. I'm just gonna be over here for a while, OK?" Rick tried to assure him as he stood up again and returned to his workstation, glad to have a small degree of his freedom back.

When he didn't hear a reply, he picked up the other two antigravity generators and resumed soldering, a devilish smirk growing across his face; he already had plans for them and knew he could finish them before the night was over.

Soon enough, Morty's breathing began to slow as he fell into a deeper sleep, and Rick felt like he'd won again; he knew the new device was effective.

Once back to work, the scientist's mind entertained the earlier conversation he'd had with Ricktus over the new lab project, and he couldn't help but wonder what he was up to. He couldn't even tell if his guesses had been correct or not, because the other was so good at concealing his expressions that they never changed.

Rick's final guess was the incomplete curative serum, and wondering if he could beat the doctor at his own game, he grabbed a pair of microscope goggles and pushed the partially finished antigravity generators aside for a test-tube rack; at the very least, he loved the idea of a competition. Even if his guess turned out to be wrong, he would still be backing up his claim about speeding up the six-week period in which he was supposed to be recovering.

He would remain at his workstation, tinkering and experimenting with chemicals all night, and true to his word, he would still be there when Morty woke up again in the morning.


	35. Ricktermission

**Let The Ricks Fall Where They May**

Written by Kat_Aclysm  
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick  
Rated: - T for language

 **Disclaimers + Copyrights:** Rick and Morty disclaimer stuff here, something clever, I don't own a thing.

 **NOTE:** This is a nice and settled slice of life chapter, for once. Sorry it took so long. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 35 – Ricktermission  
**  
 **December 18th, 8:30am, Citadel Time, 2001  
** **Cross-Temporal Rift Nebula, Location Classified  
** **Citadel Of Ricks, Dimension Number Classified**

* * *

Something felt off that morning. Ricktus couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but as soon as he'd connected his prosthetic limbs and taken his first steps for the day, he felt like even his sense of balance had been affected.

Figuring it was probably nothing but a startup glitch, he made his way over to the kitchenette to turn on the coffee machine. However, he quickly discovered it wasn't there, and made a slight huff at the minor inconvenience. Looking around the room revealed its new position immediately - he saw it over on Rick's workstation in several pieces, alongside what looked like the outer case of a portal gun, as well as some other electronic parts that he didn't quite recognize.

The perpetrator was still at the scene of the crime. He was hunched forward in his chair with his head resting down among some other unused components from the devices he'd dismantled during the night, drooling out the lower side of his mouth, and loudly snoring; he'd fallen into old habits and pulled another all-nighter, and then passed out from exhaustion sometime during the earlier hours of the morning.

Sighing at his discovery, Ricktus came up beside the scientist's chair, folded his arms, and began tapping his foot in irritation. "You are absolutely unbelievable, B-526... are you completely incapable of following simple orders? Or do you-HOLY SHIT!"

His sentence ended abruptly as he was rapidly launched into the air. He was flipped upside down and his heels hit the ceiling half a second later, his left prosthetic limb dislodging from its biomechanical juncture in the same movement. Before he could say or do anything else, he had already crashed back down onto the floor again in an uncoordinated tumble.

The noise woke Rick with a sudden start, and he sat bolt upright with both arms raised in defense as if expecting an attack; after everything he'd been through, it was an instinctive reaction by now. "Wh-wh-what the hell!?"

"What do YOU mean 'what the hell'? Shouldn't I be asking that?!" Ricktus instantly retorted as he awkwardly pushed himself back to a sitting position. "I'm used to tripping over my own feet every now and then, but... what WAS that? What have you done to me now?!"

Rick's arms dropped to his sides; now that he'd heard the familiar voice and remembered where he was, he was able to relax again. "Hey wait, why are you blaming me for your problems?" Needing more time to blink the sleep out of his eyes, he glared down at the blurry shape nearby instead.

"Let's just say it's an educated guess based on past performance, which places you straight in the position of prime suspect." Ricktus matched his expression. "Now, are you going to tell me what you did? Or are you going to be evasive? Turnabout is fair play after everything I've done to you and it would be well deserved, but... it is not appreciated."

When the two images of the other Rick became one and he realized whom he was looking at, a huge grin grew across the scientist's face. "Oh yeah... that."

"That? THAT?!" Ricktus's eyes widened and he bristled with anger. "So you're guilty? You admit to toying with me again?!" Once he had snatched up the detached limb, he locked it back into place and returned to his feet. "You seriously have to stop with all your secret modifications, B-526... I thought we were finally on the way to putting our differences behind us. Obviously, I thought wrong!"

"Ugh, would you quit your whining already? I only made the one adjustment before, a-and I didn't do it to be spiteful... even though you gotta admit how funny it was to see you repeatedly fall on your ass." Stifling a chuckle at the memory, Rick swiveled around in his chair to check on Morty, relieved to discover that he was still sleeping. "I just provided you with another upgrade during the night. It's gonna be awesome. You should be thanking me."

Struggling to hold onto his composure, Ricktus grabbed the nearest armrest of Rick's chair and swung it back so he was facing him again. "You make it sound like nothing! Do you think I enjoy it when you tamper with my property without my permission, while I'm asleep?!"

"Huh... so it's OK when you're awake?"

"You know that's not what I meant!" Ricktus was about to add more, but he realized how aggressive he was sounding as he backed away again. "I'm not questioning your judgment. I only wish to express my concern over your complete lack of foresight. You didn't consider what I wanted, but you did it anyway."

"Actually, I did." Rick was quick to respond. "Just like the first upgrade, it'll take some getting used to. But you adapted, and once I showed you how to adjust the sensitivity setting for yourself, I never heard about it again. You must've liked something about what I did."

"Well... I was distracted with much bigger concerns at the time to give you detailed feedback, but," Ricktus struggled to say the next words because it meant admitting to being wrong yet again. "My augmentation was close to needing repairs anyway. Your craftsmanship is truly superior to the original design. I... appreciate the extra mobility."

"See? It was something that you didn't even know you wanted." Rick grinned, practically beaming with pride. "And I believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Yes, well," Ricktus looked away uncomfortably. "Don't get used to it."

"The more I think about your predicament, the more contradictory you are." Rick leaned back in his chair, becoming thoughtful. "Why could you build your own spaceship, but not repair your own prosthetic gear? A-and you hacked my portal gun, too..."

"I, ah... I think you might be overestimating my abilities, B-526. Sure, I built a spaceship, but that doesn't mean it was any good. To be honest, I'm surprised it even flew at all..." The other awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "I used to be able to work with precision in a confined space. When my eyesight was better, I was the world's best pediatric surgeon, among other things. But working with small electronics is your specialty, not mine. As for hacking your portal gun to contact you initially, I had a lot of help from the Citadel for that." He folded his arms again and raised an eyebrow. "And we've drifted far from my original question... all I'm asking for is a simple answer here. What did you do to me this time?"

Rick's expression hardened, anticipating another argument. "I already told you. If you end up hating your new upgrade that badly, then I'll take back everything I did. My only condition is that you gotta answer one more question for me first."

The doctor looked skeptical now, but it didn't sound like a bad trade-off to him. "...go ahead."

Rick considered it carefully before asking, half expecting not to get an answer at all; he assumed that it was still a touchy subject. "If I remember correctly, you said that you got your biomechanical augmentation because of personal preference and time constraints, right?" Despite the gruffness of his voice, he was genuinely curious. "Now that you've got no deadlines to meet, all the time in the world to fuck around, and enough cash to pay for it with overkill, are you gonna get rid of them?"

"No," the answer was instant. "I've gotten used to them. Believe me, I've already entertained the idea of growing a replacement pair of biological legs many times... both through cloning techniques, and advanced stem-cell therapy. But it would mean months of pain and suffering, not to mention the rehabilitation and learning to walk all over again... again." He made a discontent sound at the thought. "Plus the end result would be boring. Think about it - if both of your legs were crushed and amputated, would YOU want to go back to being normal? What would be the point, especially when you have the option of getting rocket boosters installed one day?"

"Oh wow, really?" Rick perked up at the admission; he hadn't expected it at all. "Boy am I glad to hear you say that, because that day is today."

All the other emotions faded from Ricktus's face, leaving only confusion and mild alarm. "Ah, pardon me...?"

"What I installed is like a set of rocket boosters, but waaaay more energy efficient because I'm not a hack, and I was working with existing power limitations." Rick pushed his chair out from his workstation, then stretched his legs and pointed his toes forward in an attempt to demonstrate. "I modified two antigravity generators and installed one in each of your heels. Pretend you're standing on your tippy-toes if you wanna accelerate. Pull your feet back and point your heels to brake. The angle of your foot determines your speed once you're airborne, so... get outta here and go play with it."

Ricktus just stood there, not really sure how to process the new information. After it was quiet again, his attention drifted downward and he stared at his own feet; the explanation had raised more questions than it answered. There were already several he wanted to ask, but he chose the most obvious one first. "So let me get this straight. You did this during the night without my consent, and... you destroyed our new coffee machine so I could defy gravity and fly?"

"Yeah! Isn't it awesome?" Rick was grinning all over again as he slid his chair out the rest of the way and stood up. "The controls are so simple, I'm sure you'll have it mastered within hours. You'll be zippin' around the Citadel airspace so fast that it'll piss off all the guards, no doubt. They won't know what they're in for." He turned away and headed for his unopened shipping boxes. "Just don't tap your feet unless you wanna initiate the emergency-launch feature." He paused in consideration of the words. "Oh. Yeah, don't do that again. I should probably alter how that activates."

Ricktus didn't seem any happier once Rick had finished speaking, even though his words had been somewhat reassuring. "Does this mean that you're volunteering to do all of my future upgrades and maintenance? Because there're more things I'd like to incorporate into the prosthetics as soon as possible. A hidden gun compartment would be particularly convenient."

"Yeah, it's gonna be a constant work in progress. I'm sure there's gonna be room for all the ideas you wanna add now, as well as the ones you haven't thought of yet." Rick sounded disinterested, but nodded anyway. "And hey, speaking of playing with your stuff, all your remaining serum project crap was sent to me, wasn't it? Did you wanna keep anything before I completely screw it all up?"

The question caused the other to stop and look up at him again. "Ah... you're really serious about solving that, aren't you?"

"Yeah, it's just bugging me now." Rick admitted as he tore the lid off the top box, took out his new holo-projector, and placed it on the armrest of the couch for safekeeping. "I know it's your special thing, but maybe I just need to look at it from another perspective. Y'know, because you're me and-"

"Yes, I understood what you meant." Ricktus cut his sentence short. "But no, I don't want anything to do with it anymore. It got me into a lot of trouble, so it's better off forgotten."

Rick stopped to stare at him for a moment, shrugged it off, and then opened the next box to sift through. "You're never gonna get anywhere with that dumb, defeatist attitude. If you wanna win big, then you gotta go all in. Go hard or go home, y'know? Who knows how close you were. Why give up now?"

Over on the double bed, Surgeon Rick slowly sat up; he'd woken up after hearing the initial crash, but the conversation that had taken place after it sounded far too important to interrupt. Now that it sounded like it was done, he cleared his throat to draw attention to himself, looking troubled; he was about to heed Rick's advice and use it in a completely different way. "Hey, uh... can we talk?"

"About what?" Rick scowled immediately but didn't stop what he was doing; in his experiences, nothing good ever came of those words. "Are you gonna blame me for your problems, too?"

"Um, why don't you make yourselves comfortable on the couch?" Surgeon Rick casually evaded the question and got up to stretch. "I'm callin' to order the first official apartment meeting." His face went blank as he wandered towards the bathroom, but he was filled with trepidation; he felt like he was about to risk everything they'd just established and lose.

Ricktus's eyes tracked Surgeon Rick's movements as he tried to gain some insight from what was about to happen, but he couldn't read anything and he looked clueless as he took his regular seat on the couch. "What have you done now?"

Rick didn't answer, but he removed his hands from the box and folded his arms. His whole posture suddenly went rigid and his expression hardened as he heard the ceramic-scraping noises coming from the next room; he knew exactly what they meant, and what was about to happen. "Oh shit... Here we go again."

"So the flushing mechanism on the toilet got jammed earlier this morning," Surgeon Rick started his story from inside the bathroom. "I didn't call housekeeping because it was nearly 5am and I figured I could fix it myself. Well, you see, I did... but I found a little problem." He appeared in the doorway again, holding up the dripping-wet bottle of whiskey he'd just pulled out of the cistern tank. "This was blocking the way. Do either of you know how it got there?"

Ricktus turned his nose up at the very suggestion that it might have been him. "Please... don't look at me, I'm not THAT irresponsible. Besides, I wouldn't be caught dead drinking that. Perhaps either one of you would care to explain instead?" Even though he had left the question open, he turned his head and cast an accusatory look straight back at Rick.

Rick instantly challenged him with a wild-eyed, defiant glare of his own; he wanted to shut down the conversation, to yell, or to storm off in a wild rage and avoid the issue like he'd always done. But as quickly as his anger had spiked, he remembered how badly he had treated Birdperson in similar circumstances and he let out a tense breath he had been holding in instead.

The whole scenario felt hauntingly familiar. Just like them, Birdperson had also been concerned for his welfare not long ago, but because of his fiery disposition and a strong desire to defend himself even when wrong, he'd pushed away a staunch ally and his best friend, only to feel terrible about it and apologize far too long after the fact.

After another moment of silence had passed, the scientist's shoulders sank and he lowered his head; there was no point in getting angry. Now seemed like a good time as any to curb his bad behavior and start facing this problem, and it was reassuring to know that the others had actually grown to like him beyond caring for him due to preexisting work obligations.

If he had to admit it to himself, he had grown to like them as well, even if they were both frustratingly irritating most of the time.

With a small shrug to defuse the tension, Rick averted his gaze back down to the contents of the last box he'd opened. "D-do I even need to say anything? I guess I gotta find a better hiding place next time..."

"I'm not mad," Surgeon Rick urged in an attempt to assure him. "I-I just... I know more than anyone how hard this shit is to deal with. An addiction is an addiction no matter how you look at it, and you're not gonna get over it just 'cause a bunch of idiots are telling you 'no'." He took three paces forward and gently placed the bottle down on the coffee table, finding it easier to look at than the others around him. "Oh man, why did you have to go and do this...? We have an obligation to report it, a-and you know how Riq IV is gonna react, right?"

"No, actually, I don't." Rick's mouth twisted into a firm pout, but he didn't look up. "Enlighten me."

"He'll either send someone to watch you 24/7, or it'll become our next work assignment." Ricktus replied for him. "I know how much you hated the guards following you around the Citadel, but a personal assistant would monitor your every move. You wouldn't have an inch of privacy or freedom anywhere. It wouldn't get much worse for you, unless they put you in lockup."

"What's that?"

"It's a timeout, soundproof room where you can throw as many tantrums as you want and wash out without hurting yourself." Surgeon Rick jumped in before his colleague could answer this time. "It's basically a padded cell with a window. My first memory of the Citadel was waking up in one of them. They're not fun, yo."

"Yeah, I can imagine." Rick screwed up his face at the description. "Don't send me there. I don't wanna get separated from Morty again. He has more than enough reasons to be fucked up as it is... d-don't add to them."

The doctor unconsciously brought a hand up to his chin and made a thoughtful hum. "Yes, you're right. But there's another solution here that neither of you are seeing."

"Huh?" With both brows raised, Surgeon Rick stared back at him. "Like what?"

"Think about it," Ricktus made a grab for the whiskey bottle as he began his pitch. "If this disappears and we pretend that we didn't see it, then it's like it never happened. Everything goes back to how it was. No harm, no foul."

"Dude, what? That sounds way more like me than you." The surgeon narrowed his eyes, instantly suspicious. "You, my friend... for as long as I've known you, you've always been a stickler for the rules. You're probably the most uptight Rick in the entire multiverse! And you always, ALWAYS fall in line with authority and do shit by the book. This ain't like you... is something happening? Talk to me."

Ricktus allowed his fingers to play with the wax seal on the neck of the bottle as he composed an answer in his mind. "Look... you don't need to tell me how serious this is, C-711. Mixing alcohol with medication can be extremely harmful, even if you don't consume it in large quantities. But it's also the attending-physician's job to analyze the situation as a whole, and to decide what the best course of action is, especially when the patient poses a risk to himself or to others."

"So you ARE doing it by the book?" Surgeon Rick sounded vaguely impressed. "Do I wanna know what crazy idea is goin' through that head of yours?"

"It's not crazy. It's just logic and reasoning. Sending Rick B-526 to lockup might be a good outcome for him, but he's also right - it would pose a terrible dilemma for his Morty, and it will do more harm than good." Ricktus gently set the bottle back down and motioned to it with a hand. "Ordinarily, I would have agreed with you if this had been open. It's not."

"So?"

"So I am obliged to show leniency," the doctor returned before the other could get another word in. "Instead of succumbing to the pull of addiction, he made a clear demonstration of willpower and managed to abstain. Having that temptation so close by would drive even the best of us insane. It means he's trying. That deserves to be acknowledged, not punished." He turned back to face Rick again. "In light of all the evidence, I'm going to ignore this transgression. However, do not mistake it for tolerance - if this happens again, I WILL have to report it to the Council. Do we have an understanding?"

Rick thrust his hands into his pockets and muttered something vaguely resembling a 'yes'; he looked far more like a scolded child than the adult he was supposed to be.

"Good," Ricktus nodded, satisfied with the outcome. "You know, B-526... I have to say, I'm quite impressed. Despite all the safeguards in effect and the fact that not one single bar in the entire Citadel is allowed to sell you alcoholic beverages, this still somehow found its way in. Am I allowed to know how?"

Rick didn't look at him. "No."

"Is it the only one?" Both curiosity and annoyance rose in the other's voice. "Is there anything else to declare while I'm letting you off the hook?"

"No. There is NOT." Rick confirmed through gritted teeth, his attention on Morty's door now; even though he was making a concentrated effort not to lose his temper, it was starting to fray. "Are... a-are there any other issues you wanna raise while you have me by the balls?"

"No, I don't believe so. C-711 did the right thing by bringing this to my attention, but if it's the only one, then no further discussion is needed. Let's just hope for everyone's sake, especially for your Morty's, that you are indeed telling the truth." Ricktus relaxed his expression again, willing to let it go now that he'd said everything he'd wanted to say. "Now, let's drop this and never mention it again."

Fumbling through his pants pockets, Rick found the crumpled-up prescription he had stuffed in there from yesterday and carelessly tossed it over the backrest of the couch, using the last statement as a cue to retreat; his mind had since switched back to thoughts of self-preservation and escape, and now seemed like a good time.

He kept his face neutral as he moved around the couch and across the room, outwardly appearing unfazed by the discussion that had just taken place, but on the inside his mind was in turmoil; he felt pretty certain that walking away was the very definition of 'not dealing with it'. He was also upset about having his secret whiskey stash being taken away, and by the time he was at the doorway of Morty's bedroom, he stopped to look back at the others, unable to help himself.

"I-is this going to be forever...?" It was hard for the scientist to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "What are you gonna do with my whiskey?"

"Why did you throw this away?" Ricktus dutifully ignored the question in favor of picking up the piece of paper to wave back at him. "You know you have the authorization to keep it, so I can only assume that you did it out of spite. Take a moment to calm yourself, B-526. Being irrational and childish isn't going to do you any favors."

"Shut up and answer me!" Rick hissed back. "What's gonna happen? Are you gonna tip it down the sink, or quietly dispose of it? If you're gonna drink it all, a-at least let me taste some before you steal it..."

As Surgeon Rick glanced back and forth between them, he felt like he had to say something. "Yo. At the end of the day, it still belongs to you. But uh, you're not allowed to have it, so it's complicated."

"Indeed." Ricktus agreed. "The best I can do for you is put it in safe storage until a time comes when it can be returned to you."

"So... you're saying... I CAN have it back eventually?" Rick knew how desperate he sounded as he spoke, but he just had to know. "When? Because nobody can give me a straight answer."

"Like C-711 said, it's not that simple," the doctor made a discontent sound as he actually considered the question seriously. "We would have to run another series of blood tests before I could even begin forming an educated opinion. But I'm sure that Riq IV will demand another progress report soon enough, and I'm positive he'll also want to know how well your new liver is surviving." As he continued, it was clear that he was thinking out loud rather than directly talking to anyone. "Don't quote me on this, but if everything returns to normal, then... it might be a possibility down the line. But no qualified physician in his right mind would EVER advise you to drink again, and it would be foolish to even attempt it-"

"It's a fuckin' dumb idea, bro." Surgeon Rick cut in. "You know me by now. I'm like, the biggest party animal in the Citadel. So when I'm advising you against it, you KNOW it's serious shit. Anyone who's undergone a liver transplant should be avoiding drinking at all costs. Your new liver needs everything goin' for it, and putting it under stress could make it fail like the first one. Alcohol is your enemy now... you don't need it to have fun."

"Yeah, a-and you don't need hands to jerk yourself off, but it certainly fucking helps!" The scientist sharply quipped back. "Not even one shot? I just wanna taste it."

"Do NOT push your luck or my patience any further, B-526." Ricktus rose to his feet, his tone icy and authoritative. "What you just got away with should be more than enough for you. Take it and run."

"Yeah, but..." Rick fumbled for something witty as he tried to get the last word in, but couldn't think of anything and grumpily shut the door instead.

"Well, that could've gone worse. Should I go after him?" Surgeon Rick wondered aloud. "I don't want him thinkin' I'm a snitch."

"If I were you, and I am, I would leave me alone. He'll get over it before long." Ricktus raised a hand to stop him. "Trust me, retaining your pride is difficult when you're in the wrong. If you don't act like it's a big deal, then it isn't."

"But it kinda is, and he won't see it that way." The surgeon turned his attention towards the closed door. "I dunno... feels bad, man."

"Then do whatever you want. It IS our new boss's motto, after all." Offering him a brief smirk, the doctor headed to exit the apartment. "You've never needed my help to get yourself into trouble before. Why are you asking for permission now?"

"For real?" Surgeon Rick initially raised an eyebrow, but quickly gave him a lopsided grin in return. "Holy shit, is that the old you talking? Because you're actually cool when you're not acting on your dumb, rigid sense of duty."

The other merely shook his head in reply, only pausing once he was at the door. "Oh, someone needs to supervise Morty while I'm out. I need to put B-526's whiskey in a secure lockbox and buy a new coffee machine. I won't be gone long."

"Aww man, it's broken already?" The surgeon asked, but the door had already shut and he didn't get an answer. "Damn..." He risked a glance in Morty's direction, but quickly discovered that the little boy was still asleep and lazily drifting across the active field of the modified antigravity device that Rick had made for him last night.

Pleased with his findings, he turned his attention to Morty's bedroom instead, and without even bothering to knock, he let himself in.

He found his dimensional counterpart immediately; the scientist had already kicked his shoes off and buried himself under the blankets of his new bed, and now a Rick-sized lump lay curled up in the middle, his head not visible.

"Hey," Surgeon Rick offered, sounding both hesitant and a little cautious. "I'm sorry about shit happening like that, but you wanna know why I ratted you out? I swear, I'm not a snitch... snitches get stitches."

He didn't get a response, but the mass shuffled about as the occupant made himself a bit more comfortable.

"Look, I didn't do it to fuck with you," the surgeon began, finding the one-sided conversation all too familiar; he remembered justifying his actions just like this back when they were in the escape pod after the ship's self-destruct mechanism had been triggered. "I just wanna help you - that can't happen if you're only gonna hide shit from us. I know you got hooked up with that therapist for talking about your issues now, but I've lived it... and I know I'm not strong like you, but if you ever wanna pick my brains and draw from my experiences, you can. You know you can always talk to me, right?"

When nothing was said, he started rambling, just saying whatever came to mind. "My daughter is talking to me again because of you, bro. You don't have that anymore. And that's REALLY fucking uncool, but... you don't have to suffer it alone. Not even all the alcohol in the multiverse is gonna help you with that... so why bother?" He paused to exhale a heavy breath, then kept going. "And if you're mad at me for what I did, that's fine, but I'd do it again if I had to save your ass. If I didn't give a shit, I wouldn't have said anything at all, so there's that. A-am I making sense? Shit, I don't want this to ruin whatever we had, bro... we're still cool, right? Please don't fire me..."

Rick was silent as he listened to it all; his psychological cravings were as present as they always were, but they couldn't twist or distort the fact that Surgeon Rick had made the right choice about reporting him, even if he loathed it and the position it put him in.

With a sigh of resignation, he finally flicked the covers off his upper half, sat up, and gave his dimensional counterpart a tired, yet firm look of disapproval. "What...? Why the fuck would I fire you? We were never not cool apart from the time you did that bullshit bit about being dead."

With a guilty look on his face, Surgeon Rick glanced off to the side. "Yeah, sorry about that again, bro... I didn't think it through."

"Damn right you didn't." Running a hand through his unkempt, flopped-over spikes, Rick carefully contemplated his next sentence. "But uh, it would take a lot more than a stupid bottle of liquor for me to wanna wipe you outta existence. I'm not that petty, y'know. And I already knew you got my back, so... whatever. Stop being so damn insecure. Cut it out - you're fine."

"So you're not mad?"

"I'm tired..." Rick pulled the covers back over his head and lay down again. "If you wanna help me right now, you can go away and leave me to nap. I've been awake all night long doing important science stuff, a-and I've barely started what I need to finish."

Giving him a nod of understanding, Surgeon Rick backed up towards the door again and slipped out of the room. He would have been so much more pleased with the outcome if not for the comment about his insecurities; he knew it hadn't been made in spite, but it still bothered him. He had more than a few good reasons to be that way, most of them being his own fault. But he wasn't about to argue with Rick about it, or impose himself on him any longer than necessary, and not while he was the cause of all the positive changes in his life.

He simply sat down on the couch again and kept an eye on Morty as instructed, allowing his mind to wander. Having stability made him feel better than he had in a long time, but it also gave him complex feelings to deal with; his biggest fear was that none of it would last because he always had a way of screwing it all up somehow.

It was nice. It was also scary, and definitely not what he was used to, but nice.

* * *

The rest of the week would have gone by a lot more smoothly if not for Rick's insistence on running potentially hazardous experiments at his workstation. It earned him criticism from the others despite the fact that he'd given Morty his own set of safety goggles to wear whenever he sat in his lap, hung around his feet, or even the surrounding floor space nearby.

The situation finally came to a head on Wednesday evening through one unfortunate mishap; Rick had spent the entire day carefully mixing up various chemicals in preparation to strip away the curative-serum's impurities while he fractionated a small batch of vials with a centrifuge he had borrowed from the Citadel infirmary. However, once the machine had been switched off and was allowed to slow down, it started to vibrate.

Thinking nothing of it, the scientist pushed it off to one side to settle while he tried to pry the metal valve off another serum vial with a flat-headed screwdriver, only to have to cover his face mere seconds later; the lid of the centrifuge was flung off its hinges as the contents inside began to explode. The next thought that ran through his mind was to protect Morty, and he yanked him up off the floor, turning his body away as eight loud, consecutive pops sent tiny fragments of shattered glass hurtling at his back, across the surface of his workstation, the floor, and even into the rest of the apartment.

Morty had no idea what was happening, but it was over as quickly as it had begun and he tightly latched onto his grandfather with both arms; he didn't know what the source of the noise was or if it would happen again, and he loudly whimpered in fear.

"Shit... you're safe, Morty. I-it's nothing. Don't cry, OK?" Rick's tone was instantly apologetic as he tried to console the youngster by patting him on the back while he checked him over for cuts and injuries; he didn't find any and sighed in relief. "Sometimes that shit just kinda happens."

The commotion had also attracted the attention of Ricktus and Surgeon Rick, but the scattered glass and cloud of pink smoke dissipating in the air was more than enough to tell them everything; they'd both conducted the same experiment many times before with the same end result.

"Goddamn it, B-526... this is exactly what I warned you about. That certainly wasn't nothing! Didn't you read ANY of my research?" Ricktus was furious, but he kept himself contained as he stood up to assess the situation, first and foremost concerned for Morty's health and safety. "If you'd bothered to skim through it at all, you would have learned straight away that there's nothing you can do to alter the serum's composition, even in its specialist vacuum atmospheric vials. The concoction is barely stable as it is... it took us MONTHS of hard work to get it to the state you're playing with now. If you add or remove anything, or separate its contents as you just did, it becomes prone to catching on fire or exploding."

"That wasn't an explosion!" Rick defended himself as he shifted Morty onto one arm, then pulled off his protective goggles with his free hand, setting them on his forehead. "It was, uh... an unplanned rapid disassembly."

"I should have known what you were up to," the bite was gone from the doctor's voice and he became regretful. "I know more about it than you do. I should have stopped you much sooner. Did your Morty get hurt?"

"Nope... it scared him, that's all." Rick brushed some of the pink dust out of Morty's hair. "Now that it's quiet again, he's fine. Aren't ya, buddy?"

Still tightly clinging to his grandfather, Morty's distressed expression answered Rick's question better than words could have.

"So you guys are OK? Thank fuck for that." Surgeon Rick came up to stand beside them, sounding considerably more sympathetic. "Geez, open a window or something... that stuff's not toxic, but your body already didn't metabolize it once. You don't want it crystallizing in your lungs."

"Is it easy to clean up? I don't want the apartment out of action for too long." Rick wondered as he brushed off the pink particles now accumulating on his lab coat. "Should I wear a respirator next time?"

"There shouldn't BE a next time. If you wish to stubbornly persist with performing experiments on my serum, then don't do it here!" Renewed anger rose in Ricktus's voice as he sharply instructed him, then waved a hand in Morty's direction. "I'm glad that you had enough sense to provide your Morty with eye protection, but he could have been injured or much worse. Children should NEVER be present around unsafe science. No, this cannot be allowed to continue... you need to pack everything back up and take it to the Citadel laboratory. Show your gold badge to the Lab Ricks and demand special treatment. If they don't let you in, then threaten them by mentioning Riq IV."

Rick furrowed his brows at the suggestion, but couldn't think of a good enough reason to disagree; even though he wanted to continue working on removing the serum's impurities because it was just going to stay in his mind and irritate him until he succeeded, keeping Morty safe from harm was a much higher priority than any desire he had for more scientific tinkering.

With a reluctant nod, he concealed his feelings behind a deep scowl. "Ugh... fine! But one of you is gonna have to come with. I can't leave Morty here if he's only gonna cry about me being away, b-but I still have important shit to do! I can't be pandering to his every whim and demand. That's how you end up with spoiled, shitty brats."

Although the doctor disagreed with him about the last line, he still gave his own nod in return. "Yes, that can be arranged. All you need to do is direct us accordingly. We are in your servitude, after all."

Slapping a hand against his forehead, Rick growled in frustration; he'd explained how he felt about the Citadel's hierarchy more than enough times and didn't want to do it again. "You wanna know how you can help me right now, right this second? Go get the damn vacuum cleaner."

While the other Ricks busied themselves with cleaning up the broken glass and fine layer of dust that had landed on every surface within a three-yard radius of the explosions, Rick took Morty into the bathroom to wipe him off with a damp washcloth. Even though the task only took a few minutes, he was pretty certain that half the neighborhood could hear the loud squealing that ensued.

Once he was allowed to return to his workstation, Rick packed everything related to the curative serum back in its original box, noting with a vague degree of concern that all he had left to work with were five vials, and one of them was damaged because he'd never finished tampering with the metal seal on its top.

As he picked up a reel of packing tape to seal the box again, he hesitated; all his years of experience told him that he wasn't going to have enough to use properly. There were just too many variables for him to reliably experiment on just five batches, especially if their contents were highly reactive.

Going silent, he pondered how to solve the dilemma. Almost immediately, his train of thought took a different route entirely - he didn't even have to use them at all. All he needed was the serum's ingredient composition - if he had that, then surely he could easily work out which aspects of it were trash, and isolate the serum's active ingredient.

Then, another crazy thought came into his mind – maybe the impurities weren't impurities at all.

Shaking his head, the scientist took out a blank piece of paper and quickly scribbled a note for the Lab Ricks:

" _To the douchebag reading this,_

I need you to break the liquid medicine contained within this box down into its base elements and compounds, and to send me a list of the ingredients in order of least-to-most volatile. Store them in whatever isolated environmental container it takes to keep them stable. There's also a bunch of dumb research at the bottom - read it and learn what's been done before so you know how not to fuck it up.

This is super important to me, so I'll pay you whatever ransom price you want for the work. I need it done ASAP. Drop all your shit and make this your number-one priority.

I have a gold badge, so again, don't fuck this up for me.  
\- Rick (B-526)"

After reading through it again to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, he dropped it on top of everything else. One way or another, he was determined to solve this scientific puzzle like each one before it, not caring if he had to do it himself or have the Lab Ricks do it for him.

"Hey, uh," Rick called out to the others once he had taped the box back up. "Which one of you idiots wants to run a package down to the lab for me?"

* * *

Friday morning began with an unwelcome intrusion into the apartment; Surgeon Rick was barely awake when he heard the front door unlock and creak open, and then the footsteps of a whole team of shadowy figures as they hastily made their way inside.

When he saw the metal glimmer of a gun barrel in the dark, he jerked up to a sitting position and yelped out in protest. "Hey, hey, heeeey! What the hell are you doin'?! You can't just barge your way in here!"

"Actually, we can," a gravelly, unhumored voice spoke as it came towards him, and then its owner reached over to turn the bedside light on, thrusting a sheet of paper under the surgeon's nose in the same movement. "Here's a signed permit from Riq IV allowing us to access any room in all the apartment blocks this side of the Citadel."

Surgeon Rick sleepily stared at it, then up at him; he was one of the Ricks from his old surgical team, and was also dressed in the same ridiculous clinical scrubs that he often wore himself. His gaze quickly drifted towards the other unwanted arrivals, and he made note of two more surgical Ricks, along with five fully armed Guard Ricks who were standing near them.

"Great..." He made a noise somewhere between a yawn and an exasperated sigh, knowing that whatever reason they were here for was not going to be good. "Is there another mass-casualty situation? Do you need my awesome surgery skills?"

Without even bothering to ask for permission, the surgical Rick took an aural thermometer out of his top apron pocket and placed it in Surgeon Rick's right ear. "Are you the asset?" His eyes fell on the other Rick beside him on the bed. "Is that the asset?"

"What if he is? What's it to ya?"

"Our intel has informed us that the asset lives here. Protecting him is our highest priority." The other Rick blandly responded as he checked the readout on the device in his hand. Finding it satisfactory, he put it away again and waved one of his colleagues over. "Have you, or has anyone else on the premises experienced fever, rash, or a headache in the last 24 hours? The Council is ordering us to isolate any Ricks with suspicious symptoms and to immunize the rest. Now stay still, otherwise this is gonna hurt a lot."

When he saw another member of the surgical team coming towards him with a needle gun, Surgeon Rick clambered over Ricktus to get away. "Oh geez, there ain't no way in hell you're gonna stab me with THAT thing! Why don't you just back the fuck up and tell me what's goin' on?!"

"The Citadel of Ricks has been placed on emergency lockdown until further notice. Yesterday, one of our new arrivals was rushed to the infirmary after presenting with a mysterious illness that was later identified as a dangerously mutated strain of _Rickettsial irrumabo_.We did what we could for him, but he died six hours after coming in. It's so swift and so deadly that it's already killed off four of our staff, along with 24 other patients since midnight. Now it's a threat to the whole Citadel population, so everyone needs to lock themselves indoors to prevent a pandemic outbreak from occurring." The other Rick moved around the far side of the bed to corner the surgeon. "Which is where you come in... stop moving and let me do my job. Are you afraid of needles?"

"NO!" Surgeon Rick shot back a little too quickly.

"You are, aren't you?" The other Rick let out a cruel laugh and closed in on him. "Don't be such a baby. It'll be over before you know it. Unless you'd rather die?"

"Oh my god... just shut up and let it happen..." Ricktus groaned from his place on the bed, then sat up to rub his eyes. "A simple vaccination isn't going to kill you." He extended his own arm, presenting it to the surgical Rick as if giving consent to being inoculated. After it was done, he clamped his index finger over the tiny wound site to stop the bleeding. "The asset is asleep in the next room, assuming that C-711's crying didn't wake him up already. But I don't advise calling him that if you want him to remain cooperative - he's insufferably prideful and stubborn, and he'll make your job SO much more difficult if he decides he doesn't like you."

"So... he's just like every other fucking Rick in this goddamn Citadel, then?" The surgical Rick deadpanned back. "Got it. Thanks for the tip, asshole." He reloaded the needle gun and shot Surgeon Rick in the shoulder while he was distracted, then made his way into Rick's room without another word.

"HEY!" The surgeon stumbled backwards, though it was more because of the violation to his personal space than the sharp pain.

The first surgical Rick loudly snickered to himself as he followed after the second, while the third stayed back to place neon-green identification bands around the wrists of the newly immunized Ricks, marking them as safe.

Although the commotion was heard somewhere in the depths of Rick's sleeping mind, it was quickly forgotten and melded with his dreams. He didn't notice the new arrivals coming into the room, nor did he move when they approached his bedside. He didn't flinch when he was shot with their needle gun, and only uttered an irritated mumble when his wrist was banded as well.

Morty didn't seem to care when the same thing happened to him, but his little hand lazily scratched at the site where he had just been poked; he was happily curled up against his grandfather's side and far too deeply asleep to worry about such minor things.

It was only later in the morning that Rick became aware that anything had happened to him at all; he finally stumbled out of bed and wandered into the bathroom to relieve himself when he discovered the neon-green band around his wrist. After carefully repositioning himself in one hand, he raised up the other to examine it more closely.

"Hey dipshits," he called out to the others. "What the hell is 'C15N28-B' supposed to mean? Why the fuck did you idiots tag me? A-am I just a number now?"

"We all are," he heard the reply from just beyond the door, but couldn't tell who was speaking. "It's a vaccine batch identification number. Congratulations, B-526 - consider yourself part of the herd immunity collective."

"Wh... w-what the fuck are you talking about?"

"The Citadel has been quarantined, which means we're stuck inside until the order is lifted again. But we've also been vaccinated, so we get to survive this time around." Ricktus answered as he moved to stand in the doorway, a little surprised to discover that Rick would leave it open after being so protective over his privacy on previous occasions. "I must still be in their bad books because they didn't even think to ask me about joining their immunization team."

"Who gives a shit?" Rick flattened his brow as he zipped up his fly, then reached forward to pull down the flushing mechanism on the toilet. "Maybe they're not bothering because they know you're untouchable now. Keep pursuing your own goals and don't think about it." He walked over to the sink to wash his hands.

"I suppose you're right," Ricktus conceded, "but I want to feel useful again and this would be the definition of that – I would've been able to use my expertise where it's needed the most." He paused, then approached his next topic cautiously. "Speaking of which... how are you feeling? Have you had any back pain recently? Obviously your kidneys are still functioning, but are you still passing crystals?

Rick turned his head just enough to glare back at his dimensional counterpart. "Those are some pretty fucking personal questions, don't you think?"

Backing away from the door again, the doctor made a little indignant huff. "I may have signed you back over to Riq IV, but he still put me in charge of your surgery aftercare, so I need to know these things. To you it might be personal and intrusive. To me, it's just diagnostic."

After turning the tap off, the scientist reached for a towel and dried his hands, his tone becoming quiet and sincere just long enough to answer the question properly. "I-I'm OK. I'm tired of not being able to do much, and I'm sick and tired of being tired all the time. But I'm OK there." And just like that, he was back to his old grumpy self. "Aww man, are we really stuck here and locked up all day? I-I'm already bored outta my mind. I don't wanna do this anymore!"

"Hmm, that makes two of us." Ricktus agreed in a dry tone as he unbuttoned his nightshirt and turned away to change into his uniform for the day; even though he knew he wasn't going anywhere, he was still doing it out of habit.

Despite Rick's initial objections, the day itself didn't pan out too badly; Surgeon Rick reclaimed the double bed and continued with some more heavy reading, while Ricktus returned to his self-designated spot on the couch and busied himself by text messaging the other medical Ricks he knew, determined to learn as much as possible about the current outbreak.

Meanwhile, Rick sat on the other cushion with Morty and attempted to keep him entertained with his slew of toys. However, it wasn't long before the little boy grew bored; he'd gotten used to playing with them and solved their puzzles, so they couldn't hold his interest anymore. Instead, he opted to make his own fun by climbing down onto the floor and looking around to see what other mischief he could get into.

He almost instantly gravitated towards Rick's workstation, knowing full well that everything on it was forbidden for him to touch, making it all that more tantalizing to his curiosity.

"Morty, NO." Rick's tone was a sharp warning but it didn't do anything, forcing him to stand up and retrieve his grandson before he could get too far.

This same repetitive back and forth would go on for the next hour, with increasing levels of volume from both parties until Morty was finally yelling at his grandfather out of sheer frustration; being denied so many times had worked him up into such a state that he was on the verge of a tantrum.

"Yo! What the hell would you use vamolcrium for?" It sounded like Surgeon Rick had randomly thrown the question out there, but it was a diversion tactic; he wanted to give his boss something else to think about other than the baby currently screaming at him. "I skimmed over this chapter because it's a whooole lotta bullshit. Whoever wrote this crap constantly goes off on tangents about how much faster the reader could make their ship go if they tweak their ship's fuel system."

"If you're smart, you wouldn't use it for anything!" Rick sharply bit back, but at the stupidity of the concept, not the surgeon. "That stuff is hot garbage, literally – it'll hold together in the vacuum of space, but it'll either melt or vaporize the instant you enter a planet's atmosphere. If you're THAT desperate for parts, you'd be better off building a spaceship out of the common stuff you'd find in your own garage."

The apartment became quiet again, but Ricktus was becoming discouraged; the contacts he was speaking to were also medical, silver-ranked Ricks, and had about as much access to the Citadel's information network as he did. Halfway through the next text message to one of them, it occurred to him that his new boss would have a higher level of access, and he cleared his throat to draw attention to himself.

"Hey, ah... B-526," as he spoke, he sounded overly polite; at least he was good at forcing that part. "Can I borrow your laptop for ten minutes?"

"I would've thought that granting you permission to do all my work for me meant that you could abuse my property for whatever underhanded scheme you wanted to plan, no? But I guess I still have to spell everything out for you." There was no malice in the response, but Rick just couldn't believe how dense this version of himself could be sometimes. "But now that you mention it... if you can answer another question for me, you can have it as long as you want."

Rolling his eyes, the doctor was tempted to just ignore him. However, he knew if he did that, he wouldn't get what he wanted, so he quickly caved in. "Fine... but are we really going to play this game again?"

"It was never a game, but sure." Rick shrugged. "Back when you idiots first dragged me to the Citadel and we were sitting in that diner discussing naming conventions, you told me you gave yourself your own dumb name to stand out and to be different. But why specifically 'Ricktus'? I-it's stupid. I'm still never calling you that, no matter how much I might respect or disrespect you."

"Ah, yes... that." The doctor made an uncomfortable clicking sound with his tongue. "It wasn't particularly well thought out in hindsight. When I was filling in my own registration forms for the Citadel, C-711 suggested it as an amusing nickname. I wrote it down to humor him, but I didn't consider how much of an impact it would have... now it's permanent."

"Don't sound so cut up about it, bro. It's still funny and it always will be." Surgeon Rick called out from his place on the bed; his tone was mostly playful, but it still carried an air of seriousness. "You never smiled back then and you still don't smile now. It's clever and ironic. Just keep rollin' with it. Besides, YOU were the one who chose it in the end, not me. You're still a Rick. It's not that important."

"Of course... even though it's on every form I've ever signed, every identification card I own, and engraved on the back of the silver pin that I have to wear everywhere." Ricktus stood up and moved towards his boss's workstation to retrieve the laptop. "Yes, it's not important at all."

"Ugh, would you shut up? You're placing way too much value in what a dumb piece of paper says about you." Rick stood up, carrying Morty with him; at first it looked like he was following the doctor's lead, but he quickly detoured towards his glass balcony door. "It doesn't have to define you. If I were to call you an idiot, or 'doc', or even 'dumbass', would I be assigning you a name of my own, o-or would I be giving you a title? Whatever it is, it's about as relevant as your records here at the Citadel. When all is said and done, none of it matters - only you get to decide which one works for you."

"But that's stupidly simple..." Ricktus muttered as he sat in his boss's chair and opened the lid of the portable computer.

"Because it's meant to be. You're putting way too much thought into it, doc. Stop." Rick grumpily returned, then turned his gaze towards the Citadel concourse outside. From his vantage point, there didn't appear to be a single soul anywhere below - not a uniformed guard, nor a generic-looking Rick in a lab coat.

No signs of life.

Just like Bird World when he had last visited it, the Citadel also looked like a ghost town.

"Ugh, gross... how long is this lockdown crap gonna last for?" The scientist promptly changed the subject, more concerned with the question on his mind. "And think about how many other Ricks don't wanna be locked inside - do you know what a bunch of pissed-off geniuses would be capable of? Man. I-I sure as hell don't wanna be here when that ticking time bomb goes off."

"Nobody knows for certain," the response was almost immediate, and then the doctor started to read aloud from the screen; he'd wasted no time accessing the gold-rank information network using his boss's login details. "Quantum Rick has already released an official statement – once all the affected Ricks have been adequately protected against the current threat, everything should open for business again within five hours." He paused to read the rest of the announcement. "There will also be further delays while the Citadel is sprayed to eradicate any remaining bacteria in the atmosphere."

"Why would Quantum Rick be making statements about infection control? Isn't he like, the one who does the Citadel's math equations and shit?" Surgeon Rick wondered, finally looking up from his book. "He normally just sits up on the podium with the rest of the Council during the assemblies and doesn't say anything."

"Yes, I'm aware, but any Council member has the authority to speak in exceptional circumstances." Ricktus firmly reminded him, his face serious as he turned his head to glance back at his colleague. "A sudden shutdown of the entire Citadel would count as an exceptional circumstance, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right, you..." Surgeon Rick trailed off, the rest of his statement devolving into an indecipherable mutter. "I dunno, man. Something just seems... off about it. Remember the last lockdown? We were workin' on the ship at the time, so we weren't allowed to come back to the Citadel at all while it was happening. But Riq IV wouldn't stop blowing up our datapads with evacuation orders and progress-report bullshit. It's always been Riq IV's job to calm down the masses and speak for the Council of Ricks."

"I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation behind it, C-711." The doctor's tone was growing stern and impatient. "To me, it sounds like you're bored and want to wildly speculate. Not everything has to be a conspiracy, you know. Maybe this really IS nothing more than another lockdown incident - we even have the wristbands to prove it."

"Ugh, whatever!" Surgeon Rick tossed his book onto the nightstand and stood up to face him. "I'm just sayin', it don't feel right. It pays to question things that are outta the ordinary, man. You can not worry about it all you want, but our boss told us to think for ourselves. And if something stinks, there's usually a turd nearby."

"I don't mean to discredit you, C-711. I just don't think it's worth getting worked up about." The other's expression softened slightly. "Instead of winding yourself up into a frenzy about an unfounded accusation, why don't you keep calm and examine the existing evidence to draw a reasonable conclusion?"

"But I just did!" The surgeon raised his voice in protest.

"Did you really?" Ricktus challenged him with a raised eyebrow. "Think about it. And I mean really, really think about it - if there were a genuine medical crisis, we would be the first Ricks to know about it, to be deployed, and to die, now wouldn't we?"

"But they didn't call you, did they?" Rick chimed in with a smug grin on his face. Even though he sounded like he was trying to stir up more trouble, he'd mentioned it again to make the doctor think about it.

It seemed to work, because Ricktus made an indignant huff, swiveled around in the chair again, and hunched forward; although he tried his best to force his default serious expression, his posture was tense and he was pouting.

Not liking the direction in which the conversation was going, Surgeon Rick walked across the room to pick up Rick's acoustic guitar and made a peace-offering statement instead. "Eh, listen up, man... you're right. We don't know what's going on, and both of our opinions are valid. But all we can do is chill and wait 'til the lockdown order is lifted again before we find out what's really goin' on. So why don't we try to enjoy the time we have?" He began to strum the strings and momentarily paused to adjust the tuning keys. "Wait, I am allowed to play with this thing, right?"

"I haven't touched it since it got here," Rick shrugged again. "So is it really mine?"

"What is that supposed to mean? Is that a dumb, cryptic puzzle? Fuck off." The surgeon shot back good-humoredly. "Do you wanna hear me play or not?"

"I think I would rather step outside and risk letting the bacteria kill me..." Ricktus groaned back, but despite his words, he stayed seated.

Soon enough, the apartment was filled with the sound of music. Rick had never actually heard Surgeon Rick play the guitar before, and if he had to admit it, he was in awe – the surgeon was every bit as good at it as he was. Even if he was self-taught, the scientist was more than certain that he would have ended up in his own band had his dimension's set of circumstances been more similar to his own.

Casting a subtle glance back at the screen of his laptop revealed that Ricktus was already back at work, asking his medical peers why Quantum Rick was sending out the infection-control orders and not Riq IV; he'd obviously taken Surgeon Rick's suspicions to heart and wanted to investigate them further.

He remained standing at his balcony glass door, still holding Morty securely in one arm, rubbing the youngster's back in slow, gentle circles to keep him happy. He was secretly amused and pleased by what was happening around him – he was witnessing his new underlings thinking for themselves and actively questioning their reality, just like he had encouraged them to do.

He didn't know if he was rubbing off on them, or if they were rubbing off on him, but maybe they would be OK on their own after all.

"Hey man," Surgeon Rick talked over the sound of his own strumming. "Can we set up a studio when we move into the new apartment? You still owe me a jam sesh."

Rick couldn't see any reason to disagree. "Sure, buddy. Whatever you want."

* * *

Sunday morning couldn't have come fast enough. Even though the quarantine order had been lifted by the middle of Saturday, it didn't matter. The upcoming Citadel assembly meant everything; being cooped up for so long had made it difficult for Rick to maintain what little was left of his sanity. He needed to get his sutures removed, to get more of his freedom back, and to resume trying to figure things out on his own without everyone around him distracting and doting over him like he was an invalid.

Moving into a bigger apartment was also something to look forward to - as much as he had grown used to the company he kept, having them all squashed into such a small space was wearing thin on his patience.

In spite of his eagerness to move forward, he still didn't want to get up when he felt the gentle tug on his arm; he was comfortably warm and snuggled up in bed.

"Hey, B-526. I let you sleep as long as I could, but it's time to get moving." The sound of his own gravelly voice gently prompted him. "You've got an urgent message from the Citadel laboratory on your datapad. They want you to contact them as soon as possible." A pause. "You also received mail from the Council of Ricks that contains a complimentary hair-salon coupon, so you can make yourself look well-groomed for the assembly later today. You're certainly not going to it as you are."

Rick pulled the bed covers over his head. "Give... gimme f f-five more minutes," the rest of the sentence vaguely resembled 'I'm sick' and 'I'm sick of you'.

The next thing he felt was a forceful tug of his bedding as it was unceremoniously yanked off his face, and a firm hand on his forehead as it felt his temperature, giving him the perfect opportunity to glare up at the other Rick currently annoying him. He immediately found himself face-to-face with Ricktus, who was closely watching him with a serious, yet condescending expression all over his face.

Rick rolled his eyes - of course it had to be him.

"You're sick?" The doctor repeated the one word he had recognized and turned it into a vaguely concerned query. "An adverse reaction to immunization typically doesn't manifest this long after exposure. Being in a brand-new environment might make you prone to catching whatever communicable illnesses are going through the community, but you've been here long enough that it shouldn't be an issue by now." He stepped back, stood up tall again, and brought a hand to his chin to tap it thoughtfully, his mind running through other potential possibilities. "In what way are you feeling sick? Because you're not running a fever. Muscular soreness? Headache? GI-tract upset?"

"None of the above," the response was practically growled back. "Vertigo." He said the first thing that came to mind as he pulled the covers back over his head and shifted about, trying to get comfortable again.

Only half a second passed before they were ripped off a second time; Ricktus was determined to push his way through the other's stubbornness, and wasn't going to back down until he got what he wanted. "Vertigo?" He repeated again, this time asking for elaboration of the symptom.

"Yeah. Vertigo-ing the fuck back to sleep." Rick grumped. "I'll get up on one condition and one condition only."

The doctor met his offer with a sigh of resignation. "Fine. Name it."

With an uncomfortable grunt of effort, Rick finally sat up and reached out with both hands to scoop Morty out of the antigravity field he'd been resting in over the course of the night; the scientist had since moved the invention next to his bed so the little boy could sleep in it while still remaining close to him. Morty had taken an instant liking to it and preferred it over his own crib, and it made a nice compromise; Rick was still medicated on postoperative prescription drugs, so it meant that Morty could still sleep at his side without risk of being rolled onto or smothered.

Before Ricktus knew what was happening, Morty was shoved straight at him, causing him to momentarily stumble off balance as he struggled to securely hold the squirming youngster. "Wait, what kind of condition is this? I don't understand."

Rick stood up to stretch his arms high over his head, a devilish smirk growing across his face. "You're on diaper duty, b-because I don't wanna do it." He slipped out of the room with a loud yawn, not bothering to wait for a reply.

Ricktus was left standing there with a repulsed look on his face, feeling like he'd just drawn the short straw.

Out in the main room of the apartment, Surgeon Rick was dressed for the day in a freshly ironed uniform. He tapped his left foot, waiting impatiently; he'd already laid out the medical supplies he needed for the simple task he was about to perform, and invitingly patted the space beside him on the double bed as soon as he saw the scientist emerge from his room.

"Get your ass over here, bro." The surgeon was quick to get to the point. "We still got plenty of time before your grand introduction to the assembly, but I'm not takin' my chances today. I need you to remove your shirt right away and lie down for me."

"Wow, so direct... you're not even gonna use a cheesy pickup line on me first?" Rick was openly smirking as he walked across the room, yanking off his shirt just as instructed. "How impolite."

Something resembling amusement cracked through Surgeon Rick's expression; he wanted to laugh and join in with more low-brow jokes of his own, but he knew how important the day was and that the stakes were far too high. Uncharacteristically, he stuffed it all down and forced the seriousness back onto his face. "Yeah, it is," he picked up a pair of scissors and snipped them in the air twice, "but sometimes you gotta be pushy if you need to get shit done. Now, shut up and lemme do this thing so neither of us have to think about it ever again."

Giving his dimensional counterpart a nod of understanding, Rick lay down and stared up at the ceiling while the other cut through the layers of bandages wrapped around his torso and plucked out his stitches - for such a key moment in the healing process, it felt inconsequential and even a little boring. After it was done, he sat up again and traced his finger along his pink jagged scar out of curiosity; it would serve as nothing more than another permanent marker, and perhaps as a souvenir of his most recent brush with death.

At least he had another good story to tell Morty one day; that was, if he ever managed to gather up enough courage to tell him about everything that had happened.

"So that's it then?" The scientist sounded underwhelmed, the tone of his voice echoing his feelings on the subject. "I can just... get up, walk away, and carry on?"

"You can do whatever you want, brother." Surgeon Rick grinned, repeating his own motto back to him. "Like the doc ordered, you still gotta take it easy until your guts finish healing up, but yeah, that's it. Get the fuck outta here a-and go live to die another day."

With another nod, Rick retreated to deal with the most pressing thing on his mind: washing the accumulated grease out of his hair and having the ability to take a proper shower for the first time in over a week. After spending perhaps too long on the task, he tidied and sculpted the stubble on his chin with a razor, unwilling to lop it off entirely; he liked how it made him look, and it gave him a degree of uniqueness from the other Ricks around him.

Despite not wanting to stand out and look different, the sentiment was there all the same.

Once all his outstanding issues were sorted and he was finally ready to leave, he plucked up his gold badge along with Morty, and gave the call for the other Ricks to follow.

Although he'd been forcefully dragged to the Citadel against his will in the beginning, now he was here to drink liquor and kick ass.

And he wasn't allowed to drink any whiskey.


End file.
